


Eight Intertwined

by digitaldreams



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Not Beta Read, Novelization, Orsterra (Octopath Traveler), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitaldreams/pseuds/digitaldreams
Summary: The continent of Orsterra, blessed by the gods, has been peaceful for a great many years. However, unbeknownst to the occupants of the land, darkness rests on the horizon, eclipsing the sun that could bring rise to a new dawn. Eight souls brought together by varying goals and ambitions embark on a journey across the land to fulfill separate missions, finding themselves bound by something far stronger than they ever could have anticipated. Ophilia Clement travels on a religious pilgrimage to fulfill her duty. Cyrus Albright searches for something long lost. Tressa Colzione seeks a treasure she can take pride in. Olberic Eisenberg wanders in need of a missing purpose. Primrose Azelhart tracks her foes in a merciless quest for revenge. Alfyn Greengrass yearns to aid those in need. Therion attempts to find missing items for his own gain. H'aanit desires the return of a soul dear to her heart. Held as one by fate itself, eight intertwined hearts travel through Orsterra, unaware of what destiny has in store for them.For light. For truth. For treasure. For redemption. For revenge. For succor. For freedom. For master.{Octopath Traveler full game novelization. No update schedule}
Comments: 20
Kudos: 16





	1. Gods

In days long gone, there were thirteen gods. 

Legend and religious texts alike tell the tale of the formation of the continent of Orsterra, an expansive land known for its natural beauty. History informs the curious that thirteen heavenly powers once created the incredible world, and Orsterra remained the peak of their immense strength even long after they had come and gone from the realm of the living. 

At the center of Orsterra, an ocean known as the Central Sea could be found, and some have come to believe that the gods once used it as an entry point between the divine heaven and the mortal plane. Thirteen gods with the faces of man appeared from the skies above and created beauty from what had once been nothing. Each of the gods had a different gift to offer the empty earth, and it was through these presents that the land was able to survive and flourish. It's the oldest story known to humanity, one that every child knows from the glimmering sands of the Coastlands to the shaded skies of the Woodlands. 

Aelfric acted as the cornerstone of everything that the gods stood for, a symbol of purity and hope above the tumultuous realm around her. Her smile was said to spread warmth and joy to all who happened to cross her path. Aelfric's dominion over light allowed her to create the sun in the sky, and it cast its gentle glow upon the people of Orsterra. The sun reflected the gleam of her perfection perfectly, and paintings of the bygone era are often said to depict her endless radiance. 

Sealticge was Aelfric's opposite in many ways despite the countless similarities that they shared. She was an alluring woman who captured the attention of those around her without even needing to try. She was the mistress of the shadows, and darkness followed her beck and call each time that she took a step forward. Sealticge was the one who pressed the moon into the sky, and the pearl of the nighttime gem continued to smile and watch the people for countless centuries. 

Alephan was a curious man, and he offered the beauty of time to civilization. Aelfric and Sealticge gifted light and darkness to Orsterra, but Alephan balanced them out after striking a perfect middle point between the two. Ice crept along the edges of his robes as he created the cycle of day and night, and the Earth began to spin at his wishes. He was wise enough to understand how to change everything, and the world itself followed his whims when he pushed it in the perfect way, something that only he could determine. 

Winnehild's sense of order was unparalleled, and her instincts were renowned in every way imaginable. She simply had an understanding of the world around her that most others lacked, and it seemed as if the universe itself was whispering in her ear, telling all of its secrets to its warrior proxy of steel. Winnehild offered another degree of stability to the concept of time, and the seasons bled between her fingers when she provided her gift. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter were born under her influence and perfect sense of internalized peace. 

Steorra came to be known for her passion and belief in the world around her. Hope filled each breath that she took, and those who found her teachings often cited her as a sign that heaven truly existed. Destiny followed Steorra's wishes above all of the other gods, and she was given the chance to see what the future had to hold beyond the bindings of time. She spread her palms wide and created the starry sky, a reference to the very readings that had allowed her to understand what she considered fated. 

Brand created the ground itself. He was a stoic man, and his undying loyalty and unwavering faith allowed him to persevere through even the darkest of scenarios. Creating a realm was no easy feat, but Brand grounded the gods around him and forged the earth from a place where there had once been only traces of stardust. Rock and stone spread outwards in every direction, and Brand watched as the horizon was filled with his gift of stability and security against even the clutches of hell. 

Bifelgan's optimism was unparalleled, something that all the people of Orsterra had come to admire and yearn for throughout the many years of her life. Her sheer determination and confidence in the world around her allowed the plants below to begin to sprout, and greenery covered the stones that had been forged as a foundation. She was the first to create life, and the winds of fortune blew in the direction of those who believed in the power that she was capable of utilizing. 

Draefendi had been rooted in tradition for as long as any of the gods could remember, and her mind offered her images from many years prior of beautiful creatures that she would never be able to forget. The huntress of thunder followed in Bifelgan's footsteps to create life, but in her case, she gave breath to the animals of Orsterra. Various creatures manifested under her watchful eye, and she presented each of them with honor, dignity, and the right to live as all animals deserved. 

Dohter's generosity was known far and wide throughout his time on the mortal plane. He firmly believed that all living creatures deserved to receive assistance when they were suffering, and he extended a welcoming hand to those who needed it most. Dohter granted charity and health to the living beings that had been forged under the care of the other gods, and the plants grew stronger than ever before as animals flourished. Nature itself listened to his every beck and call without hesitation, providing to those who required his aid without hesitation. 

Aeber was often called the god of luck, and those who encountered him would never be able to forget his trademark smirk and easy presence. He was mischievous, but he was far from being deliberately harmful or cruel to those around him. Aeber's influence over powers often said to be out of mortal control were granted to the people of Orsterra. When asked about his gift, it is often said that the god simply shrugged his shoulders and said that they would understand when his blessing of fortune had been passed down. 

Balogar had a strong sense of justice that could never hope to be matched, and his confidence in the law never wavered. He believed that, regardless of the obstacle, the forces of warmth and purity would ultimately prevail. Balogar was quick to give the land the same natural order that thrived within his very blood, and he created the law that would govern Orsterra for generations to come. He wanted nothing more than the best for the people that followed his teachings, and so, he offered them his most precious trait: his faith in humanity's triumph. 

Dreisang's influence over the arts of magic could never be overestimated. Energy itself swayed to his wishes, understanding that he was the true master of powers beyond human explanation. In the days of the gods, magic had been something only the divine could master, but Dreisang, despite his traditional thought process, was a generous man. He gave humanity the ability to use the same strength that he had discovered and learned to wield so many years prior, and the arcane power of magic was born under his intent yet detached gaze. 

Out of the thirteen gods, twelve of their names had become commonplace to speak, and the people praised those who had brought them so many blessings over the course of countless generations. Prayers were whispered in homes and churches alike, praying for the favor of the divine beings who had brought life to Orsterra. The people understood the truth that they were indebted to the gods, and even if none of the heavenly creatures held it as leverage against them, the fact remained. None of them would ever be able to forget. 

But the thirteenth of the gods was different. The other twelve were a gleeful song on the breeze that seemed to create a perfect melody, but the final member of the group was the fallen among them. His name was enough to send a shiver down the spine of even the most confident of people. Some claimed that he was the master of hell, and those who were sent to his domain would suffer for all of eternity. 

Galdera had always been a dark and mysterious man, influenced heavily by his own emotions. His morbid sense of curiosity, something that rivaled even Alephan's wonder for the world at large, left him as a strange figure even among the eccentric gods. He yearned for something darker, something almost disturbing that none were fully ready to acknowledge. His goals had been unknown throughout much of his life, and the lack of information was enough to strike fear into the hearts of any person. 

Galdera's gift to the people had been the present of life itself. The people of Orsterra were only allowed to thrive because of Galdera's power. It was his most beautiful power, giving all of the people the power to rise and fall on their own terms. Life was in the hands of humanity, and it was only thanks to Galdera that such a power was palpable at all. 

But then he began to change. It had started with a shadow over his eyes that made it seem as if he was always examining those around him with something dark and critical. From there, his posture had shifted, and the way that he carried himself gained a shaded sense of confidence that left the gods unsettled around him. He was no longer the man that they had come to know, and even though none of them were willing to openly confess it to one another, they were aware. After all, they were a team, a collection of individuals that had changed the world and molded it into something to be admired. It was ridiculous to even imply that Galdera would want to turn against them under any circumstances. 

After the creation of Orsterra, the gods had returned to the divine plane, ascending through the heavenly stairway found at the center of the circular continent. Galdera waited until he was positive that he wouldn't be detected, and then he made the journey back down to Earth. The power of the gods flourished there, and he was able to access it easily by tapping into the power of life that connected all of them. The twelve elements of the gods united when he pressed his palm to the ground below, and Galdera could feel the power crackling beneath his fingers. 

The human world was a mystery to all of them. Even if the gods had provided strength to the Earth, there were many things that they lacked knowledge about. If none of the other gods would do anything to learn more about the world at large, Galdera would have to take it into his hands. He was more than happy to do such a thing, and he barely seemed to regret turning against the wishes of his comrades to explore the world of mortals. 

The agreement had been that the gods would only interfere with Orsterra if they found it to be absolutely necessary. Humans held great potential for both creation and destruction, but the gods refused to allow for their own hubris to interfere with the beings that lived beneath the heavenly plane. It didn't seem right to assert their power in a place where they did not belong. The gods had their own home, and so, they would leave the humans to their abode as well. 

Galdera's betrayal had come as a surprise. In hindsight, the gods all knew that this had been inevitable from the second that Galdera's eyes began to fill with shadows. They continued to watch from beyond, praying that Galdera would return to them soon. Deep down, they all understood that they had seen the last of their companion's sanity, and the truth was asserted the day that the power of life was stolen forever. 

Galdera had given the humans the power of life itself. He absorbed the strength of his allies, and his magic grew corrupted. Such distinct elements were not meant to be combined into one, and that left him tainted with the touch of something terribly vile. Galdera's gift of life began to shift and morph into something disgusting, and then, death came. 

It happened at first with an elderly man. Without the gift of life that Galdera had granted, his body gave out from beneath him. It had been unheard of in ancient times for any creature to die, human or mortal. Galdera's gift of life should have prevented such an event from taking place, and yet, there the elderly man was, unmoving on the ground as breath left his lungs for the final time. 

The present of life had changed and become the horror of death. No longer was eternal life a reality on Orsterra; death was the only option that awaited at the end of a creature's existence. The gods were shaken to their cores, and they all followed the familiar road down to Earth once again. There was no other choice but for them to confront Galdera and pray that they could bring him to his senses. 

It seemed clear as could be that Galdera was too far gone as soon as the gods crossed his path. Everything about him had deteriorated from the unique yet kind man that they had once grown used to. His curiosity regarding the potential of mankind had driven him over the edge, and the absorption of so much magic had acted as the final straw. Galdera was mutilated compared to what he once had been, and he barely resembled the human-like form that he had once taken on. 

The most obvious change had to be his eye. Hidden behind a curtain of fabric the color of blood, a bright white eye could be seen, its iris an unsettling crimson. Rumor had it that Galdera could strike any creature down with any affliction that he selected as soon as they dared to meet his gaze. Even death itself could be established in those who tried to stand up to the god. His power and corruption had led to him becoming a juggernaut. The god that many had admired at one point for his present of life and prosperity had fallen far from his heavenly position. He acted as the master of hell, and there was no way for any living being to ever hope of stopping him in his pursuit of conquest. 

He wanted more. That much was clear. Galdera had taken all of the power that he needed to tip over the edge and lose his sanity in the process, but he yearned for something stronger even still. Life and death were under his complete dominion, but Galdera searched for the full power that the other gods possessed as well. Even if he had to resort to murder to claim their power, he wouldn't hesitate to do anything necessary to find the victory that he sought. 

Aelfric had been the one to step forward and ask for peace. She pleaded with Galdera with everything that she had, praying for him to return to his senses and stop his mad conquest of Orsterra. He had given life to the people of the continent, and yet, he was taking it away without a scrap of empathy. It was something that Aelfric simply could not stand for, and no matter what it took, she was going to make sure that he was stopped before her people were killed. 

Galdera's answer was a silent one as far as Aelfric and the other gods were concerned, but the message was as loud as a series of screams from every person in the land. Galdera had charged through Orsterra, wielding an unholy sword as he continued to morph into something that could hardly be considered human. The gods had modeled humanity after their own appearances, but Galdera didn't fit in with such a concept in the slightest anymore. He was more monster than anything else, an unholy abomination that terrified all who crossed his path regardless of how strong their courage was. 

The massacre of Orsterra's people was more than enough for the gods to declare war. The twelve elements of heaven went to war against the god of death, the Fallen, and vowed to defeat him. Orsterra was transformed into a battlefield, something that the gods had never hoped would come to pass. The people were left to suffer under the oppressive presence of war, and no amount of struggling from humanity could fully bring an end to the gods' struggle. Wishes in the name of the twelve gods of heaven were chanted each night, but it never seemed to push them closer to success. 

For many years, the war waged. All the while, humanity continued to live and die, a constant rise and fall of motion of the powers that were under Galdera's complete influence. The Fallen began to craft life of his own once again, monsters that ravaged the land and acted as his eternally loyal army. Many tales told of the Eye of the Forbidden and the harm that it was capable of bringing to those who were unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfires of combat between the gods. No matter how much the heavenly twelve tried, they were unable to save everyone, and each loss weighed heavily on their shoulders like a thousand islands pressed again and again with each passing second. They were unable to escape the guilt of losing the people who they had vowed for so many years to defend against all manner of hardship. 

Texts from the olden times say that many began to believe that hope had died with Galdera's rise to power. Humans thought that this was the date of their extinction, that they would never be able to find happiness again after all that Galdera had done. There was not a speck of light to be found on the continent of Orsterra, and the world began to unravel at the seams. Many were sure that Galdera and his army of fierce beasts were going to win. It was only a matter of time before the gods fell and Orsterra collapsed completely. Regardless of how many prayers they made, the humans were convinced that it was not enough as the war pressed on without a moment of hesitation. 

Aelfric was the bringer of hope to the darkened continent. She pleaded with her allies to do everything they could to hold off Galdera for as long as possible. The traces of heavenly magic remaining in the land were few and far between, but there were a few key locations where it continued to thrive. Aelfric began a pilgrimage as soon as the plans had been solidified, and she visited the places where she could once again call upon the beauty of light that she had granted Orsterra prior to Galdera's collapse under his own madness. 

The gods came to realize something throughout their lengthy battle against Galdera. Regardless of how many times they struck him down, he would never be able to die. He still held power over life and death, and there was no way that they could ever keep him permanently held into the ground. The people of Orsterra would continue to suffer until there was no life left on the continent at all. Another solution would need to be found in order to save the occupants of the land. 

Alephan and Dreisang were the ones who got to work in finding a way to defeat Galdera. They did everything they could to find information about what would possibly be able to defeat a god of life and death. The rest of the gods were not immune to dying at Galdera's hands despite their godhood, and the search was lengthy and difficult due to how consistently Alephan and Dreisang both were pulled away from their research into the magical arts to help with the battles against Galdera. 

In a crucial battle in what would one day come to be known as the Flatlands, the heavenly gods were left struggling and on the verge of collapse. They weren't going to be able to hold out against Galdera for much longer, and some of them even began to make terms with the forces beyond the grave. Bifelgan prayed that the afterlife treated them kindly, and Steorra feverishly repeated her beliefs that everything would be fine as long as they had faith. Confidence in her words was beginning to sleep until not even the goddess of foresight and cosmos believed what she was saying. 

Aelfric returned in their most desperate hour, her hands aglow with white fire made of light itself. All it took was a single spark to send Galdera reeling and screaming. His retreat was immediate, and the gods realized that they had found the weakness of the Fallen. After many years of hopeless combat, they had determined the truth behind what could defeat him, and they weren't going to be letting up. There was finally an end in sight, and the people of Orsterra began to find hope once again as rumors spread far and wide that a weapon to defeat the Fallen had been uncovered after so many years. 

It was within the snowy lands that Aelfric cast down the most powerful of her flames. Galdera screamed and curled over himself as he was consumed by the very power of light itself. His powers over death and life were weakened due to Aelfric's overwhelming strength, and all he could do was writhe in agony. Aelfric regretted being forced to fight back against someone who had once been her friend, but she understood that this was what was necessary in order to save the people she defended so fiercely. 

Alephan and Dreisang appeared with an answer. On the edges of the land, a large manifestation of magic had been found. It could have been manipulated to create a seal that would keep Galdera from breaking free and harming Orsterra as a whole. All they had to do was reach the stony lands in the far southeast of the continent, and from there, it would be easy to keep Galdera from destroying everything that they had worked so hard to create. 

The journey was lengthy and draining. The people and gods alike had been sapped of their energy over the many years of war, and suffering ran rampant regardless of where they went. Each step seemed to bring new hardship, and yet, the gods pressed on. Their magic was beginning to falter, a combination of being away from the heavenly plane for too long and fighting fiercely for so many years. They lacked the strength needed to keep Galdera from lashing out once again, so Aelfric's flame was the only force preventing the dark god from slipping free and returning to his methods of conquest. 

Soon enough, the group of thirteen arrived. Twelve gods lived with camaraderie in their hearts while a thirteenth was twisted by bitterness of infinite depths. Galdera cursed and struggled despite his lack of strength as doors of steel were created from the strength of Winnehild. He continued to scream and yell all the way through, doing everything that he could to resist his impending imprisonment. This was the end, and he seemed to recognize such a fact. 

Despite his attempts, Galdera was unable to break free, and the gods forced him inside. Galdera seethed and screeched at them, emitting a noise loud enough to pierce the very heavens themselves. He vowed that he would return one day, that the gods would never be able to truly conquer him, and the last thing any of them heard was his angry swear for vengeance before the metal doors swung shut. 

The twelve gods stood in a circle and pressed their power into the doors, doing everything possible to ensure that Galdera would never be able to escape. Their power was more than enough to keep him bound to the inside of the prison. They came to call it the Gate of Finis, a boundary that would continue to hold until the end of time if that was what it took. It was far enough from civilization that they were confident no human would ever come across the gate. 

They had managed to seal Galdera away, and he would never again be able to fight back against the people of Orsterra. Even if he swore vengeance, the gate would hold, and he wouldn't be able to harm any living creatures ever again. His power over death remained despite his defeat though, and the eternal life of the Orsterran people was gone. Never again would the power return, and despite the other gods' attempts to bring back such strength, they were never able to replicate the power that Galdera had possessed prior to his corruption. 

The heavenly twelve were left exhausted under the weight of the power that they had exerted during the battle, and Aelfric was too tired to move much more than a few feet at once due to the energy that the flames of light had taken from her. The gods understood that the only way that they would ever be able to return to their full strength would be to return to the heavenly plane. Orsterra had fallen to ruin because of the actions of the gods, and they knew that their power had to be what helped it to recover. 

Using the last of their expendable magic, the gods brought the land a partial sense of salvation. Humanity would still need to put the pieces together to save everything that had fallen to ruin, but it was a start. It was the last gift that the gods granted to humanity before they returned to the Central Sea. A stairway was constructed from their power once again, and they vanished into the world overhead. 

This time though, the gods were ready and knew what they had to do. As soon as their strength had regenerated, they shut the gate between the heavenly plane and the mortal realm. Galdera had only been able to cause such issues because the boundary was left open in the first place, and it felt right for the barrier to be shut once and for all. They would never again descend to the land of mortals, and as far as the gods were concerned, this was for the best. Humanity needed to thrive on its own without the touch of divine beings. It felt right after all of the damage that had been done. 

In the days after the disappearance of the gods, temples were constructed across the land to honor the duty that the heavenly twelve had done to the people during the war against Galdera. The shrines would offer those inside, those given the chance by the gods themselves, the opportunity to speak with the heavenly figure bound to the temple in question. It allowed the gods to aid those who needed it most without risking travel on the surface of Orsterra ever again. It was a safe balance as far as the gods were concerned, and they allowed themselves to occasionally move down to the mortal plane for a brief time, manifesting only as astral projections, to speak with the subjects that they had worked so hard to defend. 

The continent of Orsterra had lost much of its heavenly power in the war against the Fallen. The remaining spell that had saved the land had done quite a bit to mitigate the damage, but Orsterra was nowhere near as holy as it once had been many years prior. It would never return to the glory that it had once been known for, and everyone understood such a truth. 

It wasn't until centuries afterwards that the Sacred Flame was discovered. It was a trace of the power that Aelfric had used to keep Galdera's full power at bay, but it was a sign of beauty. The Church of the Sacred Flame was established to ensure that the fire of light was defended, and the religion came to act as a beacon of hope among the people of Orsterra. Even in darker times in the years following the loss of the gods, the people turned to them for comfort. 

One thousand and six hundred years have passed since the gods last walked the land and Galdera was sealed away. The legend of the shrines has been lost to time, but the Church of the Sacred Flame has come to thrive. Many people praise the twelve gods in different regions of Orsterra, thanking the divine beings for all that they did to defend humanity. Conflicts have come and gone, but the land of Orsterra has seen temporary peace, and war has become nothing more than a memory of years gone by. 

In present days, the people of Orsterra thrive, knowing the truth of the sacrifice that comes with their lives. The story is one that has been passed on for generations, and no person of the continent will ever be able to forget the names of the twelve gods that brought their people salvation so many generations before. 

The gods continue to watch over the people of Orsterra from their place in the heavenly realm, and their eyes can be felt across every inch of the continent. However, no living creature, god or mortal, could have been aware of the chaos that thrived in the shadows, and it was only a matter of time before such a darkness was brought into the light of the same Sacred Flame that had saved Orsterra once before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... This is a thing that's happening. I guess. 
> 
> I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to follow through with this, but then I sat down and wrote the first chapter in a week. Oops? I've been thinking about doing something like this for a while, and then I did it. Octopath Traveler is my favorite video game of all time, and I thought it was a crime that I hadn't written a full multi-part story about it. I have a few one shots, sure, but nothing like this. I wanted to branch out, so here we are. 
> 
> This chapter is meant to expand on the world building of the original story and establish the universe of Orsterra through its ancient history. Woohoo for world building! I promise that we'll get to the first proper chapter with the gang next time around. Spoiler alert, we're meeting Ophilia first.
> 
> Unlike most of my other stories, I don't know if this is going to be part of a regular update schedule. Then again, I say that now, and then I'm going to do something to make it part of the normal circle. It happened with Frontiers Unexplored, Fates, and Galaxy of Hyperion, and it'll probably happen here too. For now though, there is no concrete weekly time when I'll be updating. Here's to hoping that changes soon. 
> 
> With all of that said, I hope that you enjoyed this first chapter. I hope to see you again as we go through this large project together! 
> 
> -Digital


	2. Ophilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Ophilia, and you are a cleric.
> 
> You live in the snow-swept Frostlands where you dutifully serve the Order of the Flame under your adoptive father, the archbishop. As your adoptive sister--and best friend--prepares to embark on a perilous pilgrimage, you stand ever at her side. But unbeknownst to the both of you, events are about to take a tragic turn...

The morning sun broke through the snow-filled clouds that resided above Flamesgrace, coating the arctic town in a thin veil of pristine white illumination. Within the chapel of Flamesgrace, curtains were drawn open by thin, delicate hands, and Ophilia Clement stood in front of the glass with a gentle smile spreading across her lips. 

Ophilia brushed a strand of golden hair away from her face as she allowed the light to fill her soft cerulean eyes. Ophilia's white dress and matching cloak seemed to glow in the sunshine, and her sleek black gloves reflected the glimmer in a way that seemed almost ethereal. She let out a dreamy sigh. Morning had always been Ophilia's favorite time of day. There was nothing quite like greeting the sun and enjoying the scarce beams that made their way through the skies of the Frostlands to touch the ground below. 

A pair of telltale knocks came to Ophilia's door, and she turned around to face the entryway of her room. She knew who was behind the sound without even needing to ask. "Come in," Ophilia's dignified voice instructed kindly. She chose not to shut the curtains, giving a heavenly glow to her soft and sweet features. 

The newcomer was a girl with light brown hair tied into a simple ponytail. A few loose strands framed her face and brought attention to her deep and soulful eyes. A headband sat atop her head, crowning her presence with something perfectly fitting and elegant. She was wearing a similar dress to Ophilia, and her cloak and gloves matched as well. They were different at a first glance, but everything about them seemed to come together like perfectly matched pieces of a puzzle. 

"May the Sacred Flame light your path on this fine day," Lianna Clement told Ophilia as she bowed her head and clasped her hands in a prayer formation. Her eyes slipped shut, and she waited patiently for Ophilia to return the favor. 

It only took a moment for the blonde woman to follow suit, her hands pressed together firmly in front of her chest. "And may it ever shine its warmth upon you," Ophilia finished, offering the second half of the greeting that had come to be known as traditional in the town of Flamesgrace. 

For a few long seconds, the two girls were silent. Lianna was the first one to show signs of slipping, and she bit down on her lip to unsuccessfully try and halt the laughter that was already starting to rattle in her lungs. It didn't take long for Ophilia to join in, and less than a minute later, the two were openly giggling as if they had partaken in the most amazing inside joke to ever be created. 

After Ophilia had managed to calm her laughter, she shook her head and spoke. "How many times have we said those words? And yet, they seem to take on a whole new meaning now," she said to Lianna, resisting the urge to gesture back and forth between them. It had been tradition for them to exchange the words for as long as Ophilia could remember, but times had changed since the idea was first placed in motion. 

Lianna nodded, and a newfound resolve formed in her posture. "Each day is one day closer to my departure. Perhaps I'm more nervous than I thought I was..." she commented, releasing a nervous laugh despite her body putting on a show of confidence. 

Ophilia took a small step closer, one hand reaching out to grace the other woman's shoulder. She ultimately retreated before the contact could be established, and she swallowed dryly, her anxiety manifesting itself in the back of her throat. "Lianna?" she managed to whisper. 

Lianna shook her head to dismiss the thought. "You needn't worry about me. I was born to make the pilgrimage," she said a moment later, her demeanor shifting once again into a display of assurance regardless of her true opinions. Lianna turned and took a step towards the window, allowing the morning sun to spread across her pale skin. "My father did the same twenty years ago. As his daughter, I cannot let him down."

Ophilia let out a small sigh. "You really are incredible, Lianna. I don't know how you do it," she confessed, her voice overflowing with wonder. When Lianna turned to face her, one eyebrow arched in confusion, Ophilia continued. "As the archbishop's only true born daughter, everyone expects so much from you. And yet, you never fail them. Each of your sermons is more inspiring than the last. And now, the pilgrimage... So much is placed on you alone."

Lianna laughed, the sound caring and sympathetic despite its dismissive dimension. "Don't be silly. I'm not alone. I have you, don't I? And everyone at the cathedral... Why, you're the one who helped me think of a topic for that last sermon, Ophilia. You even stayed up for nights with me to draft it."

"A willing set of ears and a few pretty words, that's all I could offer you..." Ophilia murmured as she moved towards her bed. She began to busy herself with placing the covers back in their organized state, unwilling to meet Lianna's eyes. She already knew that she was in for a lecture regarding her lack of confidence, and Ophilia wasn't sure if she would be able to endure the same song and dance again. "I wish I could do something that would truly help you."

Lianna scoffed. "Oh, abandon such worries and come, my sister. Father is expecting us in the chapel," she said simply. Ophilia sighed with relief internally that she had managed to escape the lecture, though she suspected that Lianna would be returning with a vengeance soon enough. It was only a matter of time. 

Still, Ophilia took this chance for what it was and trailed after Lianna away from her bedroom and towards the chapel of the Flamesgrace cathedral. Beneath their feet, a red carpet unfurled itself, the very pinnacle of elegance and grace. The stones of the cathedral held a dark and ancient aesthetic, and yet, Ophilia couldn't have imagined a better place as her home. 

The tale of the Flamesgrace cathedral, and the religion that surrounded it, was one that Ophilia had heard a thousand times and told a thousand more. In the beginning, the thirteen gods created the land. They shaped the mountains, filled the seas, and gave life to mighty trees and myriad beasts. Then, they created humanity, who would become the masters of the land. 

Yet one god, Galdera, was too greedy to part with his creations. And so, the twelve gods of heaven were forced into a desperate struggle with the cruel Galdera, lord of the most infernal magicks. In the end, the conflict was brought to a close by Aelfric, the Flamebringer, goddess of all that is holy. Aelfric called astral fire made of light down from the skies upon Galdera, sapping his strength. Then, Aelfric sealed him away in the afterworld. Aelfric had created a divine flame to chase the shadows. This was the Sacred Flame that shone down upon Orsterra, bringing warmth and guidance to its people. 

The selfsame Sacred Flame burned at the center of a hearth found at the back of the chapel, and Ophilia found herself hypnotized by its familiar dance. She had always found the flare to be captivating, and its white-blue glow roused a smile to her face. Ophilia had always adored the ancient tales of the gods, and the Sacred Flame's origin had to be her favorite by far. Aelfric's courage was admirable even more than a millennia and a half later, and Ophilia wished that she possessed the same strength that the goddess had been known for once upon a time. 

Standing in front of the Sacred Flame was none other than Josef Clement, Ophilia's adoptive father and caretaker. His hair was the same gentle brown color as Lianna's, but his was streaked with occasional traces of gray. He wore the traditional white robes of the clergy, and the Sacred Flame's precious glow reflected upon his time-worn face. Ophilia couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. Josef's kindness was something that she doubted she would ever be able to forget, and she held it dear to her heart even years later. 

When Josef recognized that Ophilia and Lianna had arrived, he turned to face them with a warm smile of his own. "Ah, there you are, my girls," he said softly. His expression was filled to the brim with soft and tender affection that could only be reserved for a parent watching their child. 

Ophilia bowed her hand and clutched her palms together over her chest. "Your Excellency... May the Sacred Flame ever light your path," she responded, using the regular title for the archbishop despite their close connection. It had been a habit for Ophilia for as long as she could remember. Josef had long insisted that he call her by the name of 'Father', but she couldn't bring herself to do it. They shared no blood, and part of Ophilia almost believed that she wasn't worthy of such a graceful offer. Instead, she kept to using the title, pulling in her adoptive father and sister without ever giving them the chance to get close enough to show them the truth of the insecurity resting beneath the surface. 

Lianna was used to Ophilia's habits, and she took a small step towards her father. "Have you need of us here, Father?" she questioned. Her eyes were kind and curious, but concern could be seen glazing over behind the surface brightness. 

Josef's smile faltered briefly, but he corrected himself before either one of the girls could comment on it. "I wished to see you, that is all. Do carry on with your duties," he instructed. 

Ophilia kept her expression as gracious as possible, trying not to show that she was aware of the brief crack in his mask. "As you wish, Your Excellency," Ophilia responded. She glanced up to the flame crackling behind him, listening to the gentle hum of the flare. The Sacred Flame had always soothed even her darkest fears, and she felt as if every worry that existed meant nothing in comparison to the beauty waiting before her. 

Josef shook his head as he continued to address his daughters. "It is as if the two of you have become women grown in the blink of an eye," he told them softly, carefully considering every syllable before he dared to speak it. He pondered his next statement for a moment before going on. "How long has it been, Ophilia, since you came to us?"

Ophilia swallowed dryly around the lump that had appeared in her throat. "Fifteen years, Your Excellency, or near enough so," she replied. It had been a decade and a half since her arrival in Flamesgrace, and yet, her mind still strayed back to times of the distant past more than she cared to confess. Josef mentioning their initial encounter did little to help her settle her score with completed events. 

Josef's face tilted downwards to the ground. "Fifteen years... I suppose it is little wonder that you have grown so," he remarked, melancholy bitterness finding its way into his features. He still refused to meet Ophilia and Lianna's eyes. 

Ophilia took a hesitant step forward. Fifteen years had passed since she first crossed paths with Josef and Lianna, and it had been just as long since she had become part of their family and taken their shared name. Prior to that, Ophilia had been nothing more than a shadow in the grand scheme of Orsterra's design, yet another war orphan left to suffer and crumble under the weight of the world. Josef had met her parents in times long gone, back before either Lianna or Ophilia had been born, and following their passing, he had happily accepted Ophilia as part of his heart and family. "I could never thank you enough for what you and Lianna have done for me," she murmured. If not for their actions, Ophilia knew that she would not have lived to see the present day. It was a reality that she had accepted many years ago.

Josef let out a humored chuckle. "No need for such words, my child. We all follow the path the Sacred Flame illuminates for us," he told her, repeating the same words that he had each other time that Ophilia thanked him for his kindness. 

Lianna came up behind Ophilia and swung an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Come on, Phili. We're family! You, Father, and I... There's no need to be so formal about it," she chastised. "Why should you have to thank us for being with you? That's what family's for!" Her bright smile made it so easy for Ophilia to forget that she wasn't the same as they were, that she was the thumb that stuck out among the crowd of Flamesgrace.

Ophilia hadn't originated from the Frostlands, something that always seemed blatantly obvious when citizens of the town came to visit the church. She was used to the strange gazes that she received, a child of the Riverlands with pale hair and bright eyes. Her parents had lived in a small village on the border of the Riverlands and the Cliftlands. Creek was located near the splendid city of Saintsbridge, and it was in that very city that Josef crossed paths with them two decades prior. When war broke out between the Riverlands' Lievan and the Cliftlands city of Edolas, Creek had been decimated in the process. Ophilia, orphaned and alone, was brought back to Flamesgrace when Josef heard of her parents' passing. Ironically enough, both Lievan and Edolas were destroyed in the process, absorbed as part of Saintsbridge and the Cliftlands merchant town Quarrycrest respectively. It was as if the war had never happened at all except to those with a long memory.

Ophilia would never be able to thank Josef and Lianna enough for taking a chance on her, for accepting her when no one else would. She was an outcast even in her own home, and despite her loyalty to the church, townsfolk still wondered why she was there at all. She could feel it in every judgmental gaze that looked her way. Ophilia had heard other clergymen giving Josef grief for his willingness to accept a foreigner into the church, and it was what had prompted her to grow so distant from them in the first place. She was a burden in the eyes of others, and Josef and Lianna had taken a step below their station to take her in fifteen years prior. Even as a grown woman, Ophilia had not truly outgrown the insecurity that she was unwanted and unneeded in the eyes of Flamesgrace and Orsterra as a whole. 

But she said none of this. Instead, Ophilia allowed a falsified smile to spread across her face and thanked Aelfric that she had become such a talented actress to keep from weighing on others more than she already did simply by drawing breath. "Of course... You're right, Lianna," Ophilia said, knowing that Lianna was right but unwilling to truly internalize her words. 

Satisfied with the response she received, Lianna took a step back and chuckled. "Besides, Father may be a great archbishop in here, but we both know he's just an old layabout at home. Isn't that right, Father?" Lianna questioned, her eyes turning sharp and teasing as she looked to Josef. 

Her father returned the laughter. "An old layabout? You wound me, Lianna!" he continued to chortle. 

Lianna sighed with forged exasperation. "I know your duties at the cathedral keep you busy, Father, but honestly! You're no help at all when it comes to keeping a household running!" Just to prove her point, Lianna stepped forward and smoothed out the collar of her father's robes upon noticing that it had been sitting off-kilter. "Would it kill you to cook a meal or dust the bookshelves from time to time?"

Josef laughed and shook his head. "Oh, my... When you put it that way, I suppose I am quite useless, after all," he muttered to himself. Lianna playfully rolled her eyes to show that she was only poking fun. 

Ophilia snickered along with them. "So even the great and beloved archbishop falls short in the discerning eyes of his daughter," she concluded. She took a small step back, knowing that this was a personal moment for father and daughter. She was not like them, and she was fully aware. 

"So it would seem, Ophilia," Josef remarked. "So it would seem." He adjusted the length of his gold-lined robes, looking up with the same kind tenderness that had come to be his trademark as archbishop. Lianna laughed before Josef went on. "Now, tell me, Lianna... Are you prepared for your journey to the Cave of Origin?"

"But of course, Father. I am ready," Lianna confirmed with eyes as determined and sharp as steel. She turned to face the Sacred Flame, prompting both Josef and Ophilia to follow suit moments afterwards. 

"In the deepest recess of that cave is where you will find the First Flame," Josef went on. "You will take the ember to the churches across the realm, where it will serve to light the sacred fires that warm and protect all the lands. This is the Kindling, the time-honored rite held every twenty years since the days of old."

Ophilia closed her eyes as she imagined the Kindling. Every twenty years since Aelfric's initial battle against the Fallen, a member of the Flamesgrace church had followed in her footsteps to perform the sacred act. Legend had it that the Sacred Flame was what kept the beast at bay and brought Orsterra safety every two decades. She had been born just as the previous Kindling came to a close, but this time, she would be able to see Lianna complete her quest in full glory.

"Your journey will not be an easy one. As soon as you step foot into the wilderness, you will be met with lawless villains and savage beasts. Many a servant of the church has made this journey throughout our history. Some... Some have never returned," Josef murmured, his voice growing soft and sentimental. He shook the thought off a moment later. "But I know you can do this, my daughter. Everyone has put their faith in you."

Lianna bowed her head. "You have my word, Father. I won't let you... I won't let anyone down. I will carry out the rite just as you did twenty years ago," she assured him. The flame reflected on her face, making her seem just as heavenly as the goddess Aelfric herself. 

Josef nodded carefully. "Very good, my child. Very--" Before Josef could finish, he was cut off by an explosive series of coughs that wracked his body. One palm pressed against his chest, ruining the fixed collar that Lianna had doted over a few minutes prior, and Josef's body hunched over to force the wheezes free. 

Lianna took a step forward and braced a hand on his shoulder. "Father?" she questioned, agitation quickly seeping into her voice. 

"Are you alright, Your Excellency?" Ophilia asked carefully, all insecurities cast aside for a brief moment as fear formed a solid rock at the core of her body. 

Josef shook his head to dismiss their concerns. "It's nothing to worry yourselves over. Just my years announcing their advance," he assured them as he moved over the final few coughs from his episode. 

Ophilia's stomach dropped into her feet despite his sincerity. She had thought that her birth parents were going to be safe as well fifteen years prior, and she would never be able to forget the tragic way that everything fell apart in the blink of an eye with a few simple slashes of steel. "Oh, you mustn't sound so gloomy, Your Excellency!" she cried out, trying to move past her own desperation that he was wrong about his steady aging and resulting downward spiral. "There is still so much we would learn from you before you call yourself archbishop emeritus!" 

"Ophilia is right, Father!" Lianna asserted confidently. Her gaze lingered on her adoptive sister for a moment longer, a smile appearing in the place of her concern. Ophilia missed the silent display of affection, too focused on their father to notice. "Like she always is. You should retire for the day and let your body recuperate. We can handle things from here." Her hand was already finding its way around her father's back to guide him in the direction of his room. 

"We will let the pontiff know that you are resting in your chambers," Ophilia assured him, giving him a pointed yet caring glance to show that she wouldn't be backing down. Lianna followed suit, leaving no room for him to object. 

Josef let out a laugh, but unlike his previous hearty chuckles, the sound seemed hollow and lacked substance. "When my two girls insist, who is this old man to deny them? I will leave the preparations for today's service to you."

Ophilia nodded firmly. "We will take care of everything, Your Excellency," she told him, continuing in her attempts to ignore the anxiety that was quickly mounting at her core.

"I'll see Father back to his chambers," Lianna began, taking her first step to guide Josef in the right direction. 

"Thank you, Lianna. I will see to our duties here," Ophilia replied firmly. She watched carefully as Lianna walked with Josef around the corner, and the pair vanished from sight soon afterwards. Once she was alone, Ophilia let out a small sigh and closed her eyes in contemplation. "I suppose I had best start preparing for the next service at once..." she whispered under her breath. 

The sound of footfall drew Ophilia's attention elsewhere, and she glanced up to see a young child moving through the center aisle of the chapel. It was a boy no older than seven ambling along with tears in his eyes. "Oh my... What is a child doing here all alone?" Ophilia questioned. She watched as the boy glanced back and forth nervously before she walked closer, careful to not move too suddenly and frighten him. "What is the matter?"

The boy was unable to hold his tears back when he saw Ophilia, and a sob broke free of his lips. "I-It's my mama! She's gone, and I can't find her anywhere!" he cried out. His sobbing grew louder as he rubbed haphazardly at his eyes. "Come back, Mama! Don't leave me here all alone!" The boy practically threw himself at Ophilia, eyes still overflowing with tears.

Ophilia pulled the boy away from her dress and crouched down so that she was on his level. She gently pressed her hands against his, allowing him to meet her eyes. "Now, now... Let's dry those tears. Why don't I help you look for your mother?" she asked gently as a personable smile festered on her face. 

It took a few moments for the boy to wipe his tears away and get out the last of his sniffles. "Can you really find her?" he questioned, eyes full of dashed hopes and fear. 

"Of course," Ophilia replied immediately. "The Sacred Flame will show us the way." She rose to her full height and took the boy's hand in her own. She gave a passing thought towards the service before ignoring the idea. Helping the boy was far more important as far as she was concerned, and when she looked down to see how anxious he still was, Ophilia knew that she had made the right decision. She would have time to work on the service later. For the time being, the boy had to be her priority. 

As Ophilia guided the child out of the church, she saw another member of the church standing against the wall and rehearsing an upcoming sermon. A set of flashcards could be found between his fingers. "The holy white fire of Aelfric protects us and leads us through the darkness. There are rumors of heretics who worship a black flame of evil. However..."

Ophilia didn't hear anything that came after that as she pushed her way through the grand doors of the church. A blast of cold wind met her face, and she heard the boy sniffle once again from beside her. She descended the steps carefully as snow continued to drift down from above, creating a resplendent aura of beauty around the pair. 

At the base of the stairs to the cathedral, a woman with blonde hair and warm clothing could be found. Distress was painted on her face, and she was moving frantically from person to person, asking a question before shifting to another target. When she turned to face Ophilia, her face melted into relief. 

"Mother!" the boy cried out as he ran towards the woman and embraced her with everything that he had. His tears were dried away almost immediately as his mother began to wipe gentle fingers across his face. 

"There you are!" the mother exclaimed. She pulled her son in close and hugged him as tightly as she could stand before pulling away and glancing in Ophilia's direction. "Sister Ophilia! How can I thank you for taking care of my son?"

"There's no need to thank me," Ophilia assured her. She tried to place the woman's face, and a moment later, she realized that the mother held features notably found in the Coastlands from her light brown hair to her freckles and sun-kissed skin. Another foreigner, just like her. "We all follow the path the Sacred Flame illuminates for us." She effortlessly repeated the words that she had heard so many times from Josef as a gracious curtsey overcame her body. 

"You are too kind, Sister Ophilia. Thank you for helping us," the mother responded as her fingers curled gently around the shoulders of her son. The boy continued to sniffle from beside her, and the mother pulled him in a bit closer. "It is no wonder the archbishop is so proud of his two daughters."

"Two... Daughters?" Ophilia echoed. After the doubts of the morning regarding her connections to Josef and Lianna, that was the last thing Ophilia had expected to hear. It both relieved her and left her feeling even sicker than she thought possible over a handful of words. 

"Surely, you must know that he is forever boasting of you and Sister Lianna both!" the mother exclaimed. Her son retreated into her skirt silently, his expression soft and shy as he watched Ophilia with admiration. 

"He... He does?" Ophilia questioned, trying speak around the mass that had formed in her throat. She was used to insistences of family from Lianna and Josef, but hearing it from someone on the outside was an entirely different experience, and it left her feeling strangely breathless. 

"But of course! Almost every time I speak to him!" the mother replied. She turned her attention back to her son, completely missing Ophilia's stunned silent expression. "Thank Sister Ophilia. We should be getting home."

"Thank you," her son said quietly as a pink formed of embarrassment crept into his cheeks. He stepped away from his mother's side to bow to Ophilia before returning to his precious position pressed at the woman's hip.

"It was my pleasure," Ophilia replied, slipping effortlessly back into her mask of performance to keep anyone from noticing just how surprised she was to hear that the archbishop referred to her as his family to outside parties. 

The mother and son nodded their thanks to Ophilia before leaving her behind at the steps of the cathedral. Even with the general bustle of people going about their morning routines, Ophilia felt as if she was the only person in the world. The lump in her throat was back since she no longer needed to put on a show of composure, and she looked down at her gloved hands. It was only after she blinked and her vision blurred that she realized there were tears in her eyes. 

Ever since she first arrived in Flamesgrace, Ophilia had feared that she would never be able to stand up to the beautiful legacy that both Josef and Lianna had created. She was an outsider, something almost unheard of in Flamesgrace due to so few people choosing to brave the elements of tempestuous cold to arrive in the city. For years, she had grown used to people whispering when they thought she wasn't listening, wondering if she would ever be able to stand up to the shadow that she had been placed in the instant that Josef decided to give her a chance. 

After a while, Ophilia had started to believe that they were right. She was an imitation of Lianna and an echo of the person that Josef would have wanted her to be. No matter how hard she tried, Ophilia believed that she would never be good enough for them. She pushed herself to perfection to cover for her own insecurity, placing a mask of grace to ensure that nobody noticed the doubts that were whispered on the darkest of her nights. Ophilia, the outsider of Creek, would never have a chance to hold a candle, scarcely even an ember, to the splendid torch of Lianna and the radiant flame of Josef. 

But for a moment, standing there in the bitter cold of Flamesgrace, Ophilia hoped to Aelfric that she might be able to try. She was going to do her best, and she had been temporarily empowered with the strength to believe that perhaps it was something she was capable of. Her fears had been buried for a brief moment, and all that mattered were the woman's words about how Josef truly did consider her to be part of his family. Ophilia treated herself as a burden, but for a few shining seconds, she was able to think that perhaps others didn't believe this the way that she had been convinced they did for so long. 

Ophilia swallowed back her tears as she turned back to the cathedral. She thought gently of how beautiful hope was as the doors of the Flamesgrace cathedral closed behind her. Even though it was cold outside, Ophilia felt nothing short of perfect warmth inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is coming a lot sooner than I thought it would. Surprise?
> 
> I got motivation, and then I just started going. Once I started writing, I couldn't stop. Sound familiar? Yeah. Maybe I'm a bit more dedicated to this story than I thought at first. No objections here. 
> 
> First off, I want to say something that I forgot to mention last time. Aelfric is a man in canon, but I did some gender swapping for this. Aelfric is a woman now because I said so. It keeps the gender ratio among the gods even, and plus, it just makes Aelfric a bit more badass in my eyes. You go lead the gods and cast down heavenly fire onto Galdera, Aelfric. You do that and you own it. 
> 
> Next up, I want to bring up the mention of Ophilia's hometown of Creek. This is something that is mentioned in the official guidebook for Octopath. The timeline at the back of the book explains that she originates from Creek, a Riverlands town that was destroyed in war. I decided to solidify it here since it wasn't ever confirmed in the canon game. So there's that.
> 
> The final thing I wanted to bring up is pretty obvious in this chapter. Even though I'm mostly following the game script loyally, I did add in a healthy dose of creative liberty. That's where the explicit mention of Ophilia's insecurity comes from. It was implied in canon but never fully stated, so I explained it in full here. Some dialogue is changed as well for the sake of removing info dumps and making the scenes flow more naturally. Woohoo for that spicy stuff! Expect more of that in the future, especially when we get into the segments with multiple party members. I'm throwing in a bunch of other interactions between the teammates, so there will be more of this later down the line. Yay for that!
> 
> That should be about it for this chapter. I can't promise that the next update will come quite so quickly, but it's here for now, and that's what matters most. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. Have a nice day, everyone!
> 
> -Digital


	3. Cleric

The inside of the cathedral reminded Ophilia that she had to get back to the sermon that she had been told to start. She shut the door behind her carefully and began to plan out the words and how she was going to arrange them in her coming speech. Her mind was a blur, enough to make the world around her feel hazy. She was so distracted by her own thought process that she didn't even notice she wasn't alone until after a voice reached her ears. 

"If I might have a moment, Sister..."

A young man with light brown hair that fell messily atop his head walked into view. His eyes were a dark brown color that shone with charisma regardless. He wore blue robes that Ophilia could only describe as being intricate and incredible. She turned to face him carefully, trying to figure out who he was. He certainly didn't dress the same way that most of the residents of Flamesgrace did, and if he was a man of the church, she would have seen him before. She would have remembered if she had seen clothing that elaborate in a place such as Flamesgrace, making the mystery behind the stranger all the more enticing to her.

Ophilia pushed her curiosity aside, and all thoughts of the sermon vanished from her mind as she took a step towards the newcomer. "Yes? Might I be of some service, my good sir?" she questioned. It seemed that her speech would have to wait until after she had settled matters with this man.

"Would you know where I might find His Excellency the Archbishop?" the man asked, his head tilting to the side gently in curiosity.

Ophilia felt her nerves stand on edge at the mention of Josef, and her concerned curiosity came back with a vengeance. "May I ask who is looking for him?" she inquired, taking her words slow and steady.

The man let out a gasp at the realization that he hadn't offered his name. "Ah! Pray forgive my lack of manners. My name is Mattias, and I'm a trader with the Leoniel Consortium," he explained.

Ophilia took a moment to comb through her memories and determine where she had heard that title before. Soon afterwards, she recognized it as a famous merchant business that spanned much of Orsterra. They were present in most corners of the land, or so Ophilia had heard, though they lacked a division in the snowy town of Flamsegrace. She chose to trust the world at large on the matter, knowing that she had more important things to focus on than asking Mattias for details about his trade. 

Before Ophilia knew it, he had continued to explain, and she pushed her outside thoughts aside as soon as she could manage to focus on what he was saying. "The archbishop has generously deigned to engage in a transaction of sorts with us."

"I see. It's an honor to meet you, sir. I am Sister Ophilia," the blonde girl replied after she had gathered her bearings. She had to confess that Mattias' clothing was notably elaborate for a trader and employee, and she would have expected to see such splendid designs on those who ran such a large business rather than simply their workers. Still, Ophilia figured that such details were unimportant, and she didn't know enough about the Leoniel Consortium to question his appearance even if she wanted to. 

Recognition bloomed across Mattias' face as he took a step towards her, and a carefully-crafted smile formed on his lips. "Oh, so _you_ are Sister Ophilia! I've heard so much about you!" he cried out. "When the archbishop contacted me to request my services, he spoke much of his two daughters. I also heard that Sister Lianna will be the next Flamebearer. The realm and religion are both blessed to have such loyal servants as you and your sister. As a matter of fact, it is the reasoning to equip your sister for her forthcoming journey that the archbishop has summoned me here today."

As the pieces slid together, Ophilia nodded her understanding. "Is that so? We are much obliged for your support," she told Mattias, bowing her head to him carefully. 

Mattias let out a laugh as he shook his head. "Think nothing of it, good sister! It is the duty of the faithful to serve the church as the church so tirelessly serves us," he told her. Ophilia could have sworn that she saw a flicker of upset flash through his gaze, but she chose to not ask about it. Somehow, that felt like crossing a line that she felt she had no business straying anywhere close to.

"Sister Ophilia! You must come at once!"

The overwhelming parade of footfall brought Ophilia away from her thoughts on Mattias, and he suddenly might as well have been invisible. She turned to face the opposite direction, specifically positioning her gaze towards the hallway where Josef's room could be found. That was where the voice had come from as far as she was aware, and suddenly, Ophilia's stomach was a firm knot at the core of her body. She remembered how desperately Josef had wheezed and coughed just a while before, and painful images of war appeared in her mind as she immediately jumped to the worst. Screaming always reminded her of what had taken place fifteen years prior, and even in the cathedral, safe and far from burning villages and bloody swords in the Riverlands, Ophilia still remembered too much.

A cleric with black hair stumbled into view, and Ophilia recognized the young girl as being a priestess in training by the name of Camille. Ophilia took a step closer as she watched Camille lean over, breathing heavily from exertion and panic. "Whatever is the matter?" Ophilia questioned, surprised at the sound of the words leaving her lips. It didn't feel as if she was the one speaking. As far as Ophilia was concerned, her body had started to run on its own, and she was simply along for the ride. 

"Oh, Sister Ophilia, it's the archbishop... His Excellency has collapsed!" Camille cried out, the panic in her voice only becoming more evident with each passing word. 

Images of fear and war flashed through Ophilia's mind once again. She forced them down along with the bile rising in her throat. "What?! I... I will come at once!" she exclaimed, once again shocked when she heard her own voice despite her direct lack of input. 

Ophilia was already a few steps in the direction of the hallway when she remembered Mattias, and she turned around, her legs continuing to carry her towards Josef, albeit at a much more controlled pace. "Master Mattias, forgive me for abandoning you when you have journeyed so far, but..."

Mattias shook his head as his gaze became sharp with sympathy. "Do not spare a moment's thought for me, Sister--pray go to the archbishop's side at once!" he instructed.

Had Ophilia not been planning to leave already, his demand would have been enough to push her onwards. "I thank you for understanding, sir. Please excuse me!" Ophilia cried out. She turned on her heel and dashed after Camille, leaving Mattias alone in the entryway of the cathedral.

Mattias watched Ophilia and Camille disappear from view with an unreadable expression. He took a moment to ponder his next move before he walked towards the doors of the cathedral. Emotionless eyes were pushed out into the snow, and just a few moments later, Mattias was gone, nothing more than a memory to the clerics of Flamesgrace Cathedral.

Ophilia, meanwhile, slid to a stop in Josef's room. She could see Lianna and another cleric, one Ophilia remembered distantly was named Lyssa, were already present, both looking over the archbishop dutifully. His eyes were at half-mast, and all of a sudden, the patches of skin across his face seemed sunken and hollow. Ophilia felt as if she was going to be sick at the realization that there was a lot more wrong than she had originally anticipated. "Your Excellency!" Ophilia gasped as she made her way to his side with as much hasty grace as she could manage.

"Ophilia, please!" Lianna suddenly exclaimed, her voice hinging somewhere between desperate and sorrowful. She took a moment to compose herself before continuing. "Please take a moment to breathe." Ophilia knew that her sister's words were directed more at Lianna herself rather than Ophilia, but this revelation did little to lessen the knot growing larger inside of her body.

Ophilia closed her eyes and clasped her hands together. When had her palms become so damp with nervous sweat? "Forgive me, Lianna. But His Excellency..."

"What His Excellency needs most now is rest. Please try not to excite him," Lyssa told the girls, her voice a calming rock for them to ground themselves against in comparison to the hurricane swirling inside and out.

Ophilia did her best to bite back her tears. "Of course. Forgive me." Water began to condense in her eyes despite her wishes, and she put all of her remaining energy into maintaining a front of relaxation.

Josef suddenly let out a small cough and looked up to the girls, his eyes unable to focus properly. "Lianna...?" he questioned.

Lianna's attention was on him immediately, and she reached out and took his hand between her own. Ophilia hated the way that she noticed how fragile Josef's fingers seemed all of a sudden. "Yes, Father?"

Josef was stumbling over his words constantly as he attempted to force out his next thought coherently. "The pilgrimage... The Sacred Flame..."

"Do not worry yourself, Father. I will perform the rite without fail just as you taught me," Lianna assured him, but Ophilia could hear the strain of anxiety beneath the surface of Lianna's words. She bit her lip to keep from showing that she was terrified.

"That is... Good to hear..." Josef said next. Somehow, his words were becoming even more distant, and Ophilia could hear little aside from the crackling of the nearby fireplace and the slamming of her own chest. She wondered if there was anything else that would ever be able to compare to such catastrophic noise.

Josef's eyes fell shut completely, and Lianna crouched by his side, one hand moving to his shoulder as she attempted to shake him back to consciousness. "Father...? Father!"

"Worry not, Sister Lianna. He is only resting," Lyssa assured the girl, allowing one hand to come down on the brown-haired cleric's shoulder carefully. Lyssa took extra cares to not frighten Lianna, but the soon-to-be Flamebearer jolted all the same. 

Lianna rose to her feet carefully, nodding slowly as she attempted to process what she had heard. Ophilia reached out one hand towards the girl cautiously before forcing her fingers to retreat. "Lianna..." she whispered gently. 

"Sister Lianna, are you not well?" Lyssa questioned a moment later. She moved to set her hand against Lianna's shoulder once again, and the girl grew tense under her grasp.

For a long moment, Lianna said nothing. When she finally did force herself to respond, she shook her head. "I'm fine," she declared, and Ophilia felt her heart break as soon as she realized just how much the girl's voice was trembling. Lianna took a few steps towards the door. "I think I just need some fresh air." Lianna's movements afterwards were quick and purposeful, and she vanished from the room a few moments later. The door shut behind her, and Ophilia watched as the final traces of Lianna's brown ponytail disappeared around the corner.

"Lianna..." Ophilia whispered, feeling an empty sensation in her chest that threatened to swallow her whole. She hadn't realized how suffocating the room felt until Lianna mentioned going outside, and all of a sudden, Ophilia felt as if the air itself was trying to prevent her from ever daring to draw another breath. She gave a brief glance over her shoulder toward Lyssa, and the older priestess nodded in response to show that she had given her blessing to depart. Ophilia took her leave moments later, opening and closing the door at a pace so agonizingly slow that she feared her heart was about to be torn in half.

As soon as Ophilia was free of the room's confines, she let out a sigh, feeling her tears threaten to spill onto her cheeks once again. "Oh, Lianna... I know she is trying to act strong for the others in the church... But I worry for her. I should be at her side at a time like this," she murmured to herself. Ophilia allowed her legs to carry her wordlessly out of the cathedral. She already had an idea as to where Lianna was going to be, and Ophilia wasn't about to allow her closest companion to suffer alone during such dismal times.

The outside of the cathedral brought with it a blast of cold air that grounded Ophilia back in reality. She couldn't be caught up with her thoughts of the past. She had to focus on her mission at present. Everyone at the church was counting on her. More importantly, Lianna was counting on her. Josef would want her and Lianna to support one another through such dark times. Snow fell overhead, but Ophilia barely noticed it in the tidal wave of her own emotions.

Ophilia's mind was cast back to the events of that morning as she walked silently through the streets of Flamesgrace. She recalled the way that Josef had acted so strangely nostalgic when it came to the idea of Lianna growing up and going on the Kindling. The same applied to the time that had passed since Ophilia was brought to Flamesgrace to live with him and Lianna. Could he have known this was coming? No. If he had known that he was going to collapse, he would have done something about it aside from simply reminiscing on the past. Ophilia chose to believe that Josef wouldn't simply give up on himself and grow resigned to his face when forced to confront such a dismal matter. He couldn't have known about it. She was exaggerating and allowing her fears to get the best of her. Everything was going to be fine. It had to be.

As Ophilia arrived in the square of Flamesgrace, she came to her senses and remembered her mission. She silenced her dismal thoughts and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other above all else. The sun had retreated back behind the clouds, leaving the day shadowy and dark. Ophilia refused to think about how fitting it was that the weather had changed so suddenly, instead choosing to fix her eyes on the large hill that overlooked Flamesgrace and its companion cathedral. It could hardly be called a hill, in all honesty. Its side was covered in ruts that made it look more like a sharp cliff from the angle that she was staring at it from. The other side was an easy slope to climb with enough effort, and Ophilia let out a small sigh. Her breath created a cloud of fog in front of her face.

From her place on the ground, Ophilia could see the familiar outline of Lianna standing on top of the hill. She noticed the blowing motion of Lianna's ponytail, sealing her suspicions as true. Ophilia began to walk towards the familiar path up to the top of the hill, and the snow slid out from beneath her feet. She was careful to ensure that she didn't slip along the way, her shoes finding the firmest ground she could see at a first glance.

Ophilia found herself standing beside Lianna less than two minutes later. Her voice was shakier than expected when it left her lips, and Ophilia hated how weak she sounded to herself. "Lianna... How are you feeling?" she questioned softly.

Lianna snapped out of her daze as soon as she heard the voice behind her, and she turned with grief written all over her face. "Ophilia?" The blonde cleric could see tears in Lianna's eyes, and as soon as their gazes met, Lianna's legs gave out from beneath her, and she pressed her face into her hands as sobs choked their way free of her lungs. The wintry wind stole away the sounds from the rest of the world, but Ophilia could hear her in all too much detail. 

"L-Lianna?!" Ophilia gasped. She eased herself down into the snow and curled an arm around Lianna's shoulders to make sure that the girl felt safe and comforted in her grasp. Lianna leaned against Ophilia's body, pressing her ear against Ophilia's shoulder soon afterwards. Her tears continued to flow, and all Ophilia could do was watch with hopelessness continuing to condense at her core.

"What am I to do, Ophilia?! Father... Our father is..." Lianna murmured. Before she could finish the sentence, she was cut off by another round of sobs, and she hid her face in her hands once again, almost as if she thought that this would lessen the terrible emotional pain that had come to overwhelm her so suddenly. Ophilia did her best to not make it obvious that she had noted the way that Liana said 'our father' when referring to Josef, and she forced the thought out of her mind as soon as she recognized that it was present.

"Thinking about what might happen makes me feel so scared, so angry that I... I feel like my heart might just burst!" Lianna continued to cry. She let out a gasp of a sob before forcing herself onwards. "But if I fall to pieces now, everyone will lose hope. I must be strong. And soon I must depart on the pilgrimage. The rite cannot be put off any longer--there are centuries of tradition we must obey. But... Leaving Father behind, without even knowing if I'll ever... Ever see him again..." Lianna fell silent, the thought too dreadful for her to put words to. Tears continued to streak down her face, discoloring the snow when they touched the ground below.

Ophilia wrapped her other arm around Lianna's shoulders and pulled the other girl in close. "Don't despair, Lianna. We are together in this. We will find a way," Ophilia assured her. She tried to force herself to believe the words as much as it seemed she did on the surface. Her stomach was still a tight knot that she didn't even know where to begin as far as untying it was concerned. She repeated the words of hope as many times as she could, noting them down as if they were penned in blood. She had to remember her strength and optimism for the sake of Lianna. If her sister was falling to pieces, then Ophilia had to act as her pillar. That was what Lianna, what everyone, needed, and Ophilia refused to let the church down after everything its people had done for her during her hour of desperate need fifteen years prior.

"Ophilia..." Lianna whispered, her voice cracking halfway through the word. She glanced up to her companion with something resembling bitter fear mixed with a wish for optimism. She tried to rub at her own tears, but the liquid had replaced itself only a few moments later. 

Ophilia took Lianna's hands between her own, and the two girls watched one another carefully. "I'm going to be here for you no matter what. You did so much to help me when we were children. It's the least I can do to repay the favor," Ophilia told her. She wiped at Lianna's tears with an absentminded finger before taking her sister's hands once more.

Lianna fell silent, and Ophilia closed her eyes. A curtain of gentle reminiscence closed in around them, and the city of Flamesgrace disappeared. The snow overhead seemed to still in its gentle cascade, and for but a few moments, neither Ophilia nor Lianna was in the town or atop the hill at all. The flow of time took them elsewhere, and all they could do was allow it to influence them.

~~~~~

_Fifteen years prior, Ophilia and Lianna had been five years old. It was on a day similar to the present one that they first met one another. The two had been standing together in the archbishop's room, and the fireplace's gentle crackle seemed to drown out the rest of the world. Ophilia could still remember the sensation of Josef's robes between her fingers as she gripped firmly at his clothing. It was the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart under the weight of everything that had happened._

_It had only been a few weeks since the downfall of Creek and the death of Ophilia's parents. She could still remember the way that she screamed and cried amidst dreadful flames as her tiny palms shook her mother's body. The wound across her chest was grievous and had claimed her life. Ophilia had been picking blood out from beneath her nails for hours as she whimpered and sobbed in what was left of Creek. Nobody was around to save her, but Ophilia prayed to the Flame for help regardless._

_That was when Josef appeared. He had heard whispers of the war, and he arrived to visit his old companions only to find that they were gone. Upon visiting the home of his deceased friends, Josef found Ophilia curled up in the corner of her room, crying noisily with blood staining her skin. Josef had reached out to her carefully and introduced himself. Ophilia, after some hesitation, allowed him to grow close. She couldn't remember the details, just that she found him trustworthy. Josef told her that he would do everything in his power to defend her from the rest of the world, and she allowed herself to be taken in by his promises. Josef began to take her back to Flamesgrace, and she followed him dutifully. The whole way back, she refused to say a word._

_The journey itself was little more than a blur that Ophilia could barely remember after all that she had been through, but she could still recall her first encounter with Lianna clearly. She had been terrified even after hearing countless stories of Lianna from Josef during their quest back to Flamesgrace. Josef told Ophilia that Lianna had lost her mother as well, and their family had struggled but ultimately survived. His wife had perished of illness when Lianna was a mere two years old, he said, and Lianna was terribly lonely thanks to his duties. She and Ophilia would get along perfectly, Josef claimed, and they would be able to spend as much time together as they pleased._

_"Do not despair, Ophilia," Josef had said. "From today, we are your family." He wrapped a hand gently around her body, placing his hand between her shoulder blades. She was instantly comforted by the gesture and could remember it even years later. He gestured to Lianna with his other hand. "This is Lianna, my daughter. Your new sister."_

_Lianna had taken a step forward, but Ophilia retreated out of fear. Lianna prattled on despite her nerves. "My name's Lianna. It's nice to meet you." Lianna reached out one hand, but Ophilia hid behind Josef even more. Lianna's eyes were overcome with sadness from the rejection. "What's the matter with her?"_

_"Lianna, I'm afraid that Ophilia has gone through something very sad," Josef replied. "So let us see her cheered once more. Together, in the light of the Sacred Flame, we will find happiness."_

_Lianna nodded with a bright smile. "Yes, Father! I'll be the best sister ever, Ophilia!" she exclaimed._

_Ophilia's long record of silence lasted despite Lianna's vow. She hadn't spoken since before her parents passed away, and she was almost starting to forget how to talk. Lianna had kept trying though, and in the end, it was only by Lianna's hand that Ophilia learned how to believe again._

_Lianna knocked on Ophilia's door a few days after the latter arrived at the cathedral. "Hey, Phili? Don't you want to go outside?" As usual, Ophilia responded with silence, but Lianna refused to be deterred. "Hm... Oh! I know!"_

_Lianna surged forward with all the determination in the world and intertwined her fingers with Ophilia's, not giving the other girl a glance when she responded with shock. "There's someplace I just have to take you!" Lianna exclaimed. Ophilia tilted her head to the side in confusion, but Lianna continued to pull her along anyways. Lianna boldly led Ophilia out of the cathedral and through the town towards the snowy hill. Ophilia remembered that the town had been notably empty that day, making it seem as if she and Lianna were the only people in the world._

_After the two girls arrived at the base of the hill, Lianna grinned and pointed to the top of the peak. "This way! Up here!" She dashed towards the hill, and Ophilia was left with no other choice but to trail after her with silent confusion written across her face. Back then, the journey had felt much longer due to how small their legs were, only making the sense of adventure even greater._

_They were almost to the top when Lianna reclaimed Ophilia's hand. "It's just a little farther! We're nearly there!" she exclaimed._

_After a few more minutes of walking, Lianna stopped at the top of the hill. Snowflakes drifted gently all around them, and flowers native to the Frostlands bloomed beneath their feet. Both girls were careful to keep from toppling the petals upon arrival. "Here we are!" Lianna declared confidently._

_Ophilia stepped near the edge of the hill, her blonde hair blowing every which way in the wind. She looked down at the cathedral with wonder reflected in her gentle blue eyes. "What is this place?" Ophilia questioned, surprised at the sound of her own voice after she had gone so long without speaking._

_"It's my favorite place in all the world!" Lianna proclaimed. "Maybe it could become your favorite place too."_

_Ophilia took another step forward. "It's... It's beautiful..." she whispered, her voice hoarse after her lengthy silence._

_Lianna's face had broken out into a radiant smile. "Isn't it? That's why I love it here!" she cried out. Her gaze drifted to the ground, and Lianna leaned down before looking at the flowers in detail. She picked the largest one that she could find before pressing it into Ophilia's hand. "Here, Phili! This is for you!"_

_Ophilia accepted the flower silently and looked down at it. She couldn't even begin to thank Lianna for how kind she had been, and words failed her when she needed them most. Before she knew it, a sob left her lips, and tears began to streak down her cheeks, stinging her skin in the frozen air._

_"Phili... Are you crying?" Lianna asked softly, her voice showing that she feared she had done something wrong. She reached out to take the flower back, almost as if she thought it would fix the problem._

_Instead, Ophilia threw her arms around Lianna. At first, Lianna was too shocked to respond, but she returned the gesture after a few moments of silence. She smiled and let out a laugh, her breath tickling Ophilia's ear. "We're going to be the best of sisters, Phili! I just know it!" she cried out confidently._

_Ophilia sniffled and rubbed at her eyes with one small hand. "I... I'd like that too, Lianna..." For the first time in so long, Ophilia felt joy, and she realized that she was going to be alright. She had feared her fate was sorrow until the day that she joined her parents in the afterlife, but Lianna had shown her otherwise. She had been freed from the dark cloud of her own grief, and at long last, Ophilia had started living again._

~~~~~

It was on the same hill where Ophilia's lungs breathed with new life fifteen years prior that she sat with Lianna in present times. Lianna watched Ophilia for a long moment, clearly having been lost in the memory as well. Ophilia smiled gently in return, and Lianna reached up to her face, rubbing away her tears with the heel of her hand. 

"I'm sorry for running off like that... I will return to Father's side and stay with him as long as I can," Lianna told Ophilia. "I may be leaving to start the pilgrimage soon, but... I want to make the most of the time that we have left together... Especially considering that... It might be..."

Ophilia shook her head to keep Lianna from saying that it would be the last time she saw Josef. "Focus on right now. Pray do that, Lianna. He will rest all the easier knowing you are with him," Ophilia told her. She got to her feet and helped Lianna to rise as well.

Lianna nodded wordlessly and let out a small sigh, trying to hide how shaky she was from her earlier explosion of tears. She started down the hill soon afterwards, leaving Ophilia alone at the apex of Flamesgrace. She closed her eyes and thought back on all that had happened so quickly. Lianna was being forced to shoulder so much for the sake of the church. Her responsibilities had deprived her of so much, and all Ophilia could do was stand by her side and watch.

The Kindling was counting on Lianna. Ophilia was next to nothing to the church in comparison to Lianna, an outsider rather than the blood child of the archbishop's bloodline. Lianna's family had completed the Kindling for centuries, and it wouldn't do for such a tradition to be shattered so suddenly. Still, Ophilia didn't think that Lianna would have been able to live with herself if she was forced to go on the Kindling while her father was in such a state.

"I wish there was more I could do for you," Ophilia whispered as she sat down on the snow once again. Tears appeared in her eyes, and her own fears overwhelmed her as she began to cry silently into her black gloves.

_If only I could help you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I would be typing so much of this story today, but here we are.
> 
> Today, Triangle Strategy was announced. I've already played part of the demo, and I have to say that I'm in love with it already. Since it's the Octopath sequel that we've been waiting for all this time, I felt like it was only fitting that I updated this story to honor that. Here we are with the halfway mark of Ophilia's first chapter! Woohoo!
> 
> Writing Ophilia has been a lot of fun for me, let me tell you. Next chapter is going to break free of the canon dialogue a little bit so that I can do some building up for important stuff, but I'm hoping that it will still mesh well with everything else. Ophilia really is a sweetheart, and she deserves better than to have an inferiority complex like this. She deserves the world and more, no questions asked.
> 
> I'm going to leave this author's note off here since I'm going to sleep soon. It's, uh, two-thirty in the morning where I live. Oops? Time for me to crash. I'll see you all next time with the third part of Ophilia's chapter one! Until then, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> -Digital


	4. Flamesgrace

Ophilia stayed there atop the hill for a long time, her face pressed into the black fabric on her gloves. She cried until there were no tears left in her eyes, and she waited even longer for her cheeks to stop stinging from a combination of the bitterly cold air and the tears on her skin. Ophilia was shaky when she pushed herself to her feet, and she was careful to keep from crushing the gentle snow flowers beneath her. Her walk back to the bottom of the hill was slow, and Ophilia took extra care with each passing step to not slip and fall. She didn't think that she would be able to take on any other stress. She was feeling hopeless enough as it was given that she couldn't do anything to help Lianna beyond offer a shoulder to cry on. 

If only Ophilia could perform the Kindling in Lianna's place. That way, Lianna would have been able to stay at her father's side through these dark times. Lianna was clearly concerned about something happening to Josef while she was gone, and Ophilia was desperate to do anything in her power to make sure that her family was happy. She didn't think that she was deserving of their care, but she was going to try to help anyways. It was the least that she could do after all of the kindness that they had offered her in the years since her arrival at the cathedral a decade and a half prior.

Ophilia was about halfway down the hill when she stopped walking, and a gasp left her lips. What if she _did_ perform the Kindling? It would have been an affront to the religion itself, to enter the Cave of Origin and gather the Ember of the First Flame without permission from the church, but Ophilia didn't know what else to do. She considered herself the sort of person to follow the rules most of the time, but how could she think about the traditions of the church in their full intricacy when Lianna and Josef were suffering? They had done so much for her over the years, and Ophilia couldn't stand by and watch as Lianna crumbled under her grief. Would she even be in the proper condition to perform the Kindling if she wanted to? 

_Go to the Cave of Origin._

Ophilia wasn't sure of where the voice had come from, but she began to glance around in confusion. The whisper had originated from the back of her mind, but it didn't sound like any voice that Ophilia had heard before. The voice belonged to a woman, and every word seemed like the apex of strength and power. Ophilia couldn't find anyone present, and when she couldn't name a nearby figure as the culprit, she began to continue her journey down the hill. Somehow, she knew that this was the best option at her disposal. She couldn't leave Lianna to suffer when everything seemed as if it was falling apart. Who cared about sermons or church standards when her family was enduring unimaginable pain? Ophilia had to do this much for them.

By the time that Ophilia had reached the bottom of the hill, she was moving with a new sense of boldness, and each step seemed more confident than the last. She wove between the others in the Flamesgrace town square until she was back at the cathedral. As she entered the chapel itself, Ophilia glanced up at the Sacred Flame at the other end of the hall. The blue and white fire seemed to beckon for her to come closer, and she answered its pleas, her hands coming to her chest to grasp at one another with a silent sense of desperation.

_Orsterra needs you. Your family needs you. Do what you must to defend them all._

Ophilia looked up once again when she heard the voice echoing in her mind a second time. Somehow, she felt as if listening to the words that were spoken was the best option for her. She gave the Sacred Flame one final long look before she began to walk as quickly as she could through the cathedral without running into the other clerics. Everything was in chaos because of Josef's sudden sickness, but Ophilia moved with a renewed sense of purpose that she refused to have stolen from her.

As she arrived at her room, Ophilia crouched down and reached under her bed, pulling free a trunk that was hiding beneath the mattress. She undid the latches on either side of the container before pushing the lid open, and Ophilia stuck her hand inside as she pulled out a staff. She had bought the weapon a few years prior after a monster managed to get through the borders of Flamesgrace and hurt the townspeople. Ophilia had hoped that she was never going to need it again, but if the Cave of Origin was truly filled with icy beasts the way that she had heard, she was left with no choice. 

As far as combat was concerned, Ophilia knew very little. She could cast a light spell if she focused her energy enough, a skill that she had developed through many hours of intense practice when she was sure that nobody was looking. Ophilia had seen enough of war to last a lifetime, but she was still wise enough to understand that she had to be able to defend herself in case it came to her doorstep. The idea was sickening to her, but Ophilia was glad that she had sharpened her skills for the sake of this moment alone. Perhaps that was what all of this was meant to culminate as. She was going to travel to the Cave of Origin, break the word of the religion, and retrieve the holy fire needed to carry out the Kindling. Even if it wasn't the right thing to do in the eyes of the church, Ophilia cared little for such restrictions as she tested the weight off the staff in her hands.

She was experienced in healing magic thanks to her work as a cleric. She had been taught the sacred power from a young age, and Ophilia couldn't imagine not having it at her disposal. She could heal the wounds of both herself and others if she concentrated her energy, and Ophilia knew that it was a skill she was going to need for her upcoming journey. She was going to have to go there alone. If she asked others for protection, they would only try to stop her, and Ophilia refused to drag any outside figures into her plan.

"Aelfric, forgive me," Ophilia whispered as she rose to her feet once again. She was going to need supplies. She could go to the local shop and stock up on healing grapes and inspiriting plums to make sure that she didn't run out of energy. If she took damage from the beasts of the Cave of Origin, the healing grapes would be needed for their innate recovery abilities. Inspiriting plums would prevent her from suffering due to magical drain in case she had to cast a lot of magic. Both would be a good idea to have, and Ophilia wasn't about to take chances when this was such an important event.

Ophilia's first destination was going to have to be elsewhere in the cathedral. She knew where the water basins were kept, and she would have to fill a flask to make sure that she didn't suffer from dehydration during her journey. Nobody would find it suspicious that she needed water, and by the time that anyone realized what she was doing, it would already be too late.

Ophilia seized a bag from the trunk before shutting the lid of the container. She pushed it under her bed soon afterwards and put her staff inside. The weapon barely fit in between the sheets of fabric, but she figured that it was good enough. She didn't want anyone to see that she was carrying a staff and ask what she was doing. Even if it was inconvenient, she knew what she had to do, and it was best to be safe rather than sorry.

The next few minutes were a hazy blur, and Ophilia could feel and hear her heart pounding a thousand times louder than usual. Each step felt like another betrayal, but she shoved the sensation down as far as she could. She knew what she had to do, and not even the church itself would be able to stop her. Lianna had been properly trained for the Kindling, but Ophilia had picked up on more than enough given all that Lianna had told her. She was going to have to travel to the three holy cathedrals across Orsterra. First, her destination would be Saintsbridge. From there, she would travel to Goldshore. Finally, Ophilia would return to Flamesgrace, and after illuminating the Sacred Flames in each location, she would complete the Kindling, and light would have successfully been brought to Orsterra and its people.

After Ophilia had filled her flask, she slipped out of the church. She knew that nobody would be asking her for a sermon given Josef's condition, so she would be able to get away with not concentrating on her daily duties. The people of the church were understanding of Ophilia's plight even if she wasn't like the rest of them as far as place of origin was concerned. She was different, but she was also connected to Josef, and that offered her at least a tiny bit of security in times when it felt like the rest of the world was falling apart. Ophilia wished that she didn't have to take advantage of this blessing, but she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. This was what she had to do. Nothing was going to stop her.

Buying healing grapes and inspiriting plums took out about a quarter of Ophilia's saved-up money, but she decided to not worry herself too much with it. Leaves were hardly an issue in the face of something so dismal and dark. She passed her currency across the counter as she tucked the fruit into her bag, careful to keep them as separated as possible for easy access. Ophilia gave her thanks to the shopkeeper before she began to move in the direction of the Cave of Origin. Her footsteps were heavy and light at the same time, and the world was little more than an afterthought as far as Ophilia was concerned.

The Cave of Origin was located just off the main area of Flamesgrace. The town square was a bustling place, but the road to the Cave of Origin was a stark contrast to the activity of the city itself. Nobody dared to travel down the street because it was said to be forbidden by the church. It went against the teachings of the Flame to enter such a holy site without permission by the religious figures that ran the cathedral. Ophilia had never heard of anyone being given permission to enter the cavern aside from Lianna, and her sister was only allowed because of the Kindling. Ophilia somehow felt as if she wasn't acting against the church quite as much as it would have seemed at a first glance, though she wasn't sure of where the sensation came from. She just wanted to make sure that her family was safe. 

A lantern on a hook stood beside the pathway, and Ophilia reached up before pulling it free. She hadn't been able to grab a lantern previously due to the suspicion it would draw to her given that it was the middle of the day, but Ophilia didn't think that anyone would miss a single lantern found in the darkest and most isolated part of town. She was going to need it if the cave was dark, and it was certainly more stable and less draining on her part than casting constant spells of light magic.

Ophilia turned over her shoulder when she stood at the head of the path, and she saw the the other people of Flamesgrace were all busy with other matters. Besides, it wasn't as if anyone would want to look towards the Cave of Origin given how dangerous it was to travel there. Ophilia had heard that the cavern was overrun with monsters all seeking to defend the First Flame, and while the rumors disconcerted her, she wasn't going to let them stop her from carrying out her duty to her family.

All it took was a single step for Ophilia to start the journey. As soon as her foot left behind the stones of Flamesgrace's road, she knew that this was meant to be. Her shoe crunched with the snow below, and Ophilia started to move forward. Snowflakes blew gently around her, and her hair was rustled along the way. With one final glance in the direction of her home, Ophilia pushed herself onward.

The path to the Cave of Origin wasn't anything out of the ordinary, Ophilia had to confess. In fact, it looked similar to the wilds that surrounded Flamesgrace. Snow fell freely from the heavens, and Ophilia could see gentle rock outcrops scattered around the area. The landscape truly was beautiful, and Ophilia had to confess that this was a place she could see herself enjoying if it was not seen as sacrilege to travel towards the Cave of Origin in the first place. The others who had entered the cave in the past had been treated as traitors, but Ophilia was oddly unconcerned with her crimes.

_The Ember awaits you._

There was that voice again. Ophilia knew that she was alone, and she didn't have any ideas as to who could have been trying to talk to her. As far as she was aware, there weren't any types of magic that allowed for communication of this nature. It was strange to her, but she did her best to ignore it. There were more important things for her to concentrate on at that moment. The voice was likely merely a byproduct of her own struggles from throughout the day.

Ophilia focused on the way that the snow cascaded around her as she walked towards the Cave of Origin. She opened her bag as soon as she remembered herself, and she forced her lantern around one wrist before pulling her staff free of the container. It seemed to come to life in her grasp, sensing her magical energies. Staves were known for augmenting the magical skills of those who used them, and even though Ophilia had nothing close to affinity for physical combat, magic was certainly in her grasp. She was going to need it for her journey anyways.

Ophilia had to confess that she didn't know what she was going to do after she retrieved the Ember. She knew that the Kindling was her ultimate goal, but Ophilia didn't know if she was meant to tell her family about her actions before departing or not. Perhaps she could leave a letter behind. That way, they would know where she was, and she would avoid being caught and accused of treachery for retrieving the Ember. It had its own risks, such as if someone else found out and attempted to pursue her, but Ophilia decided to shove such thoughts out of her mind. She had a short-term goal, and that was what she was choosing to focus on for the time being.

Before she could decide on what she was going to do next, Ophilia found herself standing outside the mouth of the Cave of Origin. She could feel a chilled wind blow from the heart of the cavern, and Ophilia swallowed dryly before taking a step forward. There was no going back, but it wasn't as if she wanted to retreat after how far she had come anyways. One way or another, she was going to retrieve the Ember, and then she was going to do what she could to help her family in any way possible.

Ophilia found that she was beyond glad to have brought a lantern as soon as she stepped into the cave. The lighting in the cave was minimal and low, and there was only one true source of illumination found on the far side of the cavern beyond countless icicles. She knew that had to be the First Flame, and Ophilia focused on following the path ahead that she believed would lead her to the flare. Her steps were careful to ensure that she didn't slip on the ice, but she still struggled to keep her footing even after living in such a cold area for the past fifteen years of her life. 

Suddenly, Ophilia felt a shiver running up her spine, and she whirled around to see that a wolf was lunging straight for her. She remembered warnings of monsters in the Cave of Origin, and Ophilia raised her staff before slamming it down onto the wolf's head. She was glad to see that it was too dazed to continue attacking her, and Ophilia took a deep breath to center herself before calling upon her magic. "Sacred light, shine forth," Ophilia whispered, clinging to the words like they were a prayer before unleashing an explosion of light in the wolf's direction. It was enough to frighten the beast into retreating, and Ophilia watched as the wolf ran as far away from her as possible. 

Ophilia didn't realize that her heart was pounding an unhealthily fast drumbeat in her chest until after she allowed herself to relax. She stared down at her hands and let out a small sigh. She hadn't expected to see a creature like that in the Cave of Origin. Even though she knew there were monsters found in the area, hearing rumors was completely different from being faced with a beast that would have ripped her to shreds if she gave it the chance. Ophilia glanced down at her staff with gratitude in her heart, glad that she had decided to bring it. The weapon had just saved her life. 

Ophilia found herself walking faster than before, taking each step as quickly as she could without needing to worry about tripping or sliding on the ice. She wanted to get the Ember and get out of the cave as soon as possible, and she thought that the fewer monsters she had to fight against, the better. 

When Ophilia's shoe made contact with a particularly noisy piece of ice, she cringed, knowing already that this was going to draw her far more attention than she wanted. Her suspicions were confirmed when a bat let out a fierce shriek before diving towards her. Ophilia once again raised her staff and slammed it into the bat's wing, knocking the creature to the ground. A second light spell was all that it took to frighten the bat into retreating the same way that the wolf had, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Ophilia was starting to understand why she hadn't ever involved herself in combat before it was absolutely necessary. She was already starting to feel terribly guilty over attacking the wolf and bat even if she knew that she had no choice but to fight back. They were going to hurt her if she didn't force them to leave her alone, and Ophilia didn't think that she would be able to handle that on top of the arduous task that had already been placed before her. 

Ophilia saw something shifting out of the corner of her eye, and she looked over her shoulder to see that the shadows themselves seemed to be churning. She knew that she wouldn't be able to reach the creature through speech since no other humans dared to journey into the Cave of Origin, so she simply stared and waited for the monster to show itself. Adrenaline was suddenly her closest companion, and Ophilia doubted that it would be leaving her system anytime soon. She needed all the help she could get in order to scrape by without getting hurt. 

A wisp made of dark magic appeared soon afterwards, and Ophilia closed her eyes, summoning her magic once again. She somehow doubted that something made of pure magical energy would be susceptible to physical weapons. If she tried to strike it with her staff, chances were high that the weapon would simply pass through the gaps in the vapor-like creature. She focused on bringing light to the dark cavern, and a few moments later, a bright column of illumination exploded in front of her once again. 

The shadowy wisp seemed to halfway fall apart with Ophilia's attack, and she attempted to ground herself once again. Her magical energy was running low, and she wasn't going to be able to cast any other spells if she allowed her spiritual power to completely deplete. She sent out one final attack towards the wisp with all of the power that she could muster before releasing her breath as a heavy sigh. Her fingers moved towards the bag at her hip, and she pulled free a plum as soon as she was able to find one. She practically threw the fruit into her mouth, and she welcomed the flood of energy that entered her body. It felt as if something inside of her had suddenly slipped into place, and she was able to focus more than before. Ophilia was going to have to practice more to make sure that she didn't run out of magic so quickly, but if all went well, she would have experience after passing through the cave to keep herself from crumbling so quickly. 

Ophilia was about halfway through the cave when she allowed herself the chance to stand and lean against an icy wall found within the cavern. "I've seen monsters before, but they're nothing like the creatures in this cave," she whispered to herself. "Mayhap they protect the Flame..."

Ophilia fell silent, and she glanced around the nearby space. Another shiver ran up her spine, and she was positive that there was another monster about to launch itself out of the shadows towards her. When nothing came, Ophilia let out a sigh, but the feeling never quite went away. In fact, she was sure that it had been there ever since she first entered the Cave of Origin. Her relief at surviving previous attacks had distracted her from noticing, but it was something that had most certainly been present for a while. "Come to think of it, why do I feel like someone, or something, is watching my every move?" Ophilia questioned of herself even though she knew that she wouldn't be able to answer her own inquiries.

It was only after Ophilia had placed a healing grape in her mouth that she felt safe to push on forward. She continued to walk quickly yet carefully through the rest of the Cave of Origin, doing her best to ignore the sensation that something was constantly staring at her. There were only monsters in the cave, so it couldn't have been anything other than a beast, but what type of monster would take so much care to stare at her with every passing second? The mere idea made Ophilia feel sick to her stomach, so she did her best to not think about it. 

Ophilia could tell that she was getting close when she saw a pair of bats swooping down towards her, and she slammed her staff into the wing of the first. The other managed to get in a bite on her shoulder, and she let out a small gasp at the pain that quickly flooded her body. She unleashed another staff strike before pulling together her magic to summon something stronger than before. This time, two columns of light appeared to beat the bats as far away as possible, and Ophilia found herself gasping at her own strength. She hadn't known that she was capable of targeting multiple foes at once, but she was happy to have that power given the situation. It seemed to sap her power more than the single attack though, so she was going to have to keep that in mind from then on in case such as skill was ever needed once more. 

"So many monsters," Ophilia whispered to herself as she glanced over at her shoulder. She was happy to see that the attack hadn't pierced the fabric of her cape, and there was no blood to be found either. Still, she took another healing grape just to be on the safe side. She gripped the lantern just a little bit tighter for the sake of letting out her excess stress. It had to go somewhere, and Ophilia doubted that she would be fully free of it until after she had left the Cave of Origin behind entirely.

After a few more minutes of walking carefully through the cave, Ophilia found herself in front of something peculiar. The path that she had been treading before had been long and winding, clearly not made deliberately by any person. It was dangerous, meant to keep out anyone who didn't fall under the category of Flamebearer. 

However, there was a stark contrast between what Ophilia had grown used to and what stood in front of her. There was a large stairway with railings made of ice on either side, and something about it seemed perfect and refined in a way that Ophilia could only describe as holy. A statue of an angel nursing a flame stood on either side of the pathway, and Ophilia knew that she had arrived at the right place. 

As she climbed the stairs, she caught sight of a large, open area that gave way to a podium at the back of the cave. The entire arena was surrounded by railings that matched the stairway, and columns spiraled up to the ceiling. If that wasn't proof of outside influence, Ophilia didn't know what was. Rocks were also scattered around the area, though they were far less ceremonious than the rest of the surrounding space.

The true beauty of the area was the podium itself though. It was a wide stand that stretched sideways across the back of the open space, and a blue flame tinted with white flickered brightly atop the stand. Ophilia knew what it was before anyone could explain it to her, not that she knew of who she would ask even if she did need verbal answers. She was spellbound as she walked closer, taking in the full splendor of the one and only First Flame.

Ophilia had barely arrived at the arena's front end when she stopped. The feeling of being watched only intensified, and every part of her body screamed to alert her that she was far from being alone. It was more than the monsters just as she had suspected before. Something much larger and much more terrifying was waiting in the wings, and it was about to lunge towards her at a moment's notice. 

A voice echoed in Ophilia's head, and she held her staff and lantern tighter. If her knuckles were visible, she was sure that they would have been white from tension despite the cold of the air around her. Ophilia's jaw dropped, and she allowed the whisper of the divine to press itself into her mind as a cloud of fog appeared in front of her lips.

_Of thee who does treaden in these halls, I aske. Art thou fit to lighten the flames and showen the path to all of humanity?_

Ophilia glanced around, her lips pressed tightly together all of a sudden. "This voice..." she whispered. It was different from the feminine one that she had heard before. The words were deep and rumbling, and something deep inside Ophilia told her that the voice belonged to something that could scarcely be considered human. The ground began to tremble as the words continued to ring in her head.

_I am the Guardian of the First Flame. If thou wouldst callen thyself the Flamebearer... Thou must prove thyself worthy!_

The ground began to shake once again, and the rocks resting across the arena began to shift. Before Ophilia knew what was happening, the stones were moving towards one another, and they began to construct something that towered high above her. The rocks were a deep gray color, a hue rarely found in the Frostlands, and that somehow made the beast even more terrifying to her. Her jaw dropped as her eyes went wide.

As soon as the rocks had fully come together, blue light began to manifest at the heart of the creature, creating veins of illumination that pulsed through the rocks in a rhythmic fashion. One arm was fashioned as a large shield while another grasped tightly to a stone sword. The Guardian of the First Flame was heavily hunched over, and its body was far from being normal by any means. Its arms were long and hung low while its legs were thin and barely seemed to be able to hold up its torso. The center of its body was small, but it quickly grew larger higher up on its torso. It had no face, but Ophilia knew that this was the being that had been watching her throughout her journey into the Cave of Origin. 

Ophilia carefully set her lantern down on the top stair leading to the arena and took another step forward. The Guardian of the First Flame was watching her with intent curiosity despite its lack of eyes, and Ophilia returned the favor. If this was what it took to help Lianna and Josef, then she would do what she had to in order to follow through. She raised her staff in preparation for the battle ahead and launched herself forward into the battle ahead. 

_If this is what I must do to become the Flamebearer, then so be it!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update! Woohoo! 
> 
> I really don't have much to say about this one, but since there's not much dialogue here, we get to focus on miniature fight scenes. Next time, we'll get into the intense stuff with the battle against the Guardian of the First Flame, but for now, this is where things end off. I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> -Digital


	5. Guardian

Ophilia's first step against the Guardian of the First Flame was to hit it with her staff with as much strength as she could muster. She could tell that it didn't do all that much to help her cause though, and the Guardian barely seemed to notice that she had done anything at all. A few tiny pebbles came off from the spot where she made contact, but that was the only cue that she had done anything of note. This was going to be much more difficult than fighting the wolves and bats throughout the rest of the cave, but Ophilia was up for the challenge. She knew that she was going to have to find a way to succeed if she was to take up the Ember and save Lianna from her own responsibility. 

The Guardian responded by slashing its long arm, the one that didn't appear as a shield, towards Ophilia. She threw up her arms to block as much of the attack as she could, but the strike still smarted more than she would have liked. She hissed in pain but recognized that she was going to be able to press on for a little while longer before she needed to take a chance to heal with a grape. She followed up with another strike with her staff, smiling to herself when she saw another flurry of pebbles fly free of the Guardian's body. As far as she could tell, she would defeat the Guardian of the First Flame after its body had completely crumbled under the result of her actions. It was a being made of rocks, and Ophilia was confident that forcing the remaining stones away from its core would end the battle and mark her as worthy to take up the Ember and continue her journey. 

Ophilia was ready for another physical attack, but she was surprised when the Guardian didn't lash out with its arm. Instead, it pointed towards her, and the air around Ophilia began to buzz with something that almost felt alive. She didn't realize that the Guardian was summoning magic until it was too late, and she felt the full force of an attack of Fire magic. The attack didn't hurt as much as she was anticipating though, and Ophilia recognized that her affinity for magic had likely defended her from the impending attack. She was silently thankful that she had decided to take up the arcane arts rather than physical combat since it appeared to have saved her skin. 

Ophilia was quick when she struck the Guardian's body next, and with a few quick blows from her staff, she was able to leave her foe dizzy and stumbling. Ophilia gasped to herself and smiled silently. This was her chance to attack with everything she had, and she wasn't about to allow it to pass her by. Ophilia pressed her hands together and called upon the magic that stirred just beneath the surface before focusing on the light thriving inside of her body. A few moments later, a pillar of light erupted in front of her, and Ophilia smiled at the sight of the Guardian's pebbles once again beginning to disperse. She had done more than she thought, it seemed, not that she was complaining. Ophilia allowed herself a moment of pride, though it didn't last long.

The Guardian came back to its senses while she was celebrating her brief triumph, and it hit her roughly with its blade-like arm. Ophilia could see blood starting to flow down the side of her face, and she realized that this was the time for her to focus on recovery. She dug a healing grape out of her bag and shoved it into her mouth before chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible. The Guardian took this brief distraction as a chance to attack, slicing its blade towards her. Ophilia jumped backwards just in time to keep from being hit before rushing forward. 

Ophilia desperately slammed her staff into the Guardian with as much force as she could muster, repeating her earlier motions. If she could leave the Guardian, which appeared to be susceptible to her staff attacks, dizzy, then she would be able to follow up with her more powerful light magic strikes. Ophilia decided that this plan was as good as any, and she focused on hitting the Guardian with her staff before it realized what was happening. 

As soon as the Guardian's defenses were down, Ophilia took a grounding breath before forcing the buzz of magic out through her fingertips. She was getting better at it as far as she could tell, and the power seemed to flow naturally to her in a way that she could have never anticipated. She watched as a significant chunk of rock fell off the Guardian at its shoulder, leaving the blue veins of its shield exposed to the cold air of the Cave of Origin. It was a weakness that Ophilia would be able to exploit, and she fully intended to take advantage of it. 

Before she could do so though, the Guardian closed its eyes and began to concentrate. A dark wisp much like the one that Ophilia had encountered before manifested itself, and Ophilia frowned to herself. Something about the wisp felt ominous to her somehow, and she could tell that the flow of the battle was going to change if she didn't get rid of the magical being as quickly as possible. She called upon her magic and sent as much force as she could towards the wisp, and she was surprised to learn that it didn't do anything to fight back or respond to her attack. Ophilia counted this among her blessings rather than questioning what the wisp was up to, and she jumped backwards to keep from being hit by a downward slash from the Guardian. 

As soon as the dark wisp began to shift, a sign that Ophilia had lowered its defenses by striking its weaknesses so many times, Ophilia looked up to the Guardian and began to hit it as many times as she could. The Guardian was left dazed by the time that Ophilia recovered from her bout of desperation. She could tell that her magic was growing scarce, but Ophilia still called upon the final traces that she had access to before expelling them outwards in a pair of light columns that struck both the dark wisp and Guardian with a resounding echo. 

Ophilia almost expected retaliation for her attacks, but she was surprised to see the dark wisp had disappeared in the chaos. She let out a sigh before glancing up to the Guardian. Its shield was on the verge of crumbling, and it had grown significantly shorter thanks to the rocks on its legs starting to fall apart. Ophilia knew that she was getting closer, and she closed her eyes to brace for another fiery attack when the Guardian pulled back in preparation. After the strike hit, she pulled out an inspiriting plum and popped it between her teeth. As soon as it entered her body, the plum replenished her magical energy, and Ophilia could feel the newfound strength flowing as easily through her body as blood or, in that moment, adrenaline. She sighed at the bliss and thanked herself for remembering to buy so many plums. The last thing she wanted was to be left with minimal magic against the Guardian of the First Flame. 

Her foe seemed to realize that it wasn't going to be lasting much longer, and it began to glow with purple light. The violet coloring started inside of the Guardian, whirling around its blue veins before spreading outwards. Ophilia could tell that this was a sign of something catastrophic, and she used her staff as much as she could to lower its defenses. The Guardian was left dazed before it had the chance to unleash its full strength, and Ophilia sighed in relief. She was starting to get tired, a bone-deep type of exhaustion that no amount of healing grapes would ever be able to fix. The day, with all of its highs and lows, had begun to wear on her, it seemed. 

"I hope this works," Ophilia whispered before gripping tightly at her staff with one hand and shoving her fingers outwards with the other. The light that exploded outwards was so bright that it temporarily stole Ophilia's vision, but at the heart of the shining beacon, she could see the Guardian of the First Flame starting to crumble. Starting from the bottom, the rocks that made up its body began to fall away, leaving behind nothing more than the memory of combat. 

Ophilia stood perfect still for a few long moments, unsure of if she should truly believe that she had just accomplished something so incredible. She watched the rocks that had once been the Guardian for a long moment, waiting for any indications that would tell her she was still in danger. Ophilia didn't realize how loud the beating of her own heart was until after it was all she heard alongside the cold breeze and her own heavy breathing. 

Ophilia let out a sigh and allowed her defenses to slip away. She dropped her staff and began to walk towards the First Flame as she gave the stones one final glance for the sake of her own sense of security. Something deep down told her that she was safe, but as far as she was concerned, she could never be too careful. 

"This... This is the First Flame of Aelfric, the fire she brought down from the heavens..." Ophilia whispered. All of her previous concerns were forgotten as she stared spellbound at the flickering flame, and her body seemed to move on its own. "It's so beautiful... As brilliant as the stars burning in the night sky..."

_Ophilia. Thou hast been judged to worthy to bearen the Sacred Flame. Reachen out thine hand, and taken it in Aelfric's Lanthorn._

Ophilia glanced off to the side of the burning flame and saw that there was something resembling a lantern resting on the pedestal. It was time-worn and made of black metal. As soon as Ophilia touched the handle, she felt as if every part of her body was standing to attention, understanding that this was one of the most important moments of her life. She was breathless, and nothing could have ever hoped to ground her in that moment of perfection. 

A piece of the blue flame nearby seemed to break away from the main body of dancing light, and it entered the lantern carefully. Ophilia knew that this had to be the Ember, and she allowed herself to blow out the light of her own lantern before looking back to the Lanthorn. Somehow, she didn't think that she would be needing the lantern again throughout the rest of her journey. 

"The Lanthorn... This must be it," Ophilia whispered, though she didn't seem to realize that she was the one to have spoken until after the words reached her ears. She continued to run the lantern between her fingers, and even though she was wearing gloves, the power of the Lanthorn seemed to transcend everything that she had ever known. Her injuries seemed to heal themselves, and Ophilia was left to wonder if perhaps it was Aelfric herself that was granting her such a blessing.

"This is the sacred lantern used in the Kindling. Aelfric's Lanthorn..." Ophilia continued, still taking an oddly long time to register the sound of her own voice and the strange way it filled her ears. She let out a sigh and shook her head, tightening her grip on the handle. "Lianna... Please forgive me. I must hasten back."

Ophilia's journey out of the Cave of Origin passed by in a hazy blur, and all she seemed to know for those few precious moments was the Lanthorn in her hand and the Ember that burned at the heart of the black steel. She didn't suffer any other monster attacks after retrieving the Lanthorn, almost as if the occupants of the Cave of Origin had come to accept her as their mistress. She didn't see any traces of the beasts she had encountered before, and Ophilia couldn't help but wonder if this was part of the power that the Lanthorn had to offer her.

When she arrived back at the Flamesgrace cathedral, Ophilia was careful to sneak around to ensure that nobody saw her. The Lanthorn had gained glass walls to protect the Ember when Ophilia wasn't watching, and she used this to her advantage by hiding the Lanthorn beneath her cape. She had returned her borrowed lantern to its original position outside the path to the Cave of Origin, so the Lanthorn was the only thing that she needed to concern herself with. 

Ophilia set down her bag and staff before hesitating and looking to the Lanthorn. She didn't think that she would be able to leave without saying goodbye to Lianna and Josef. She had to go and see them, even if it was just briefly. She would never be able to forgive herself if she departed without so much as a parting embrace. 

Ophilia continued to hide the Lanthorn under her cape, pulling the fabric in tight around her shoulders so that nobody would notice anything was off. She carefully pushed the door to Josef's room open with one gloved hand, peering inside cautiously before her gaze fell upon Lianna and Josef. Lianna was sitting beside Josef's bedside as expected, looking down at her hands with an expression that could only be described as lifeless. Lianna looked up when she heard the door creak to mark Ophilia's arrival, and the blonde cleric was left to wonder if Lianna had done anything but worry in the past few hours.

"Lianna... How is His Excellency?" Ophilia questioned slowly, careful to stay quiet to keep from disturbing her adoptive father. She shut the door cautiously, doing her best to keep from immediately spilling the truth of her ambitions to Lianna without anything resembling tact.

"He is sleeping still, but he seems to be resting more easily now," Lianna replied. Her expression became painted with worry as she rose to her feet and walked towards Ophilia shakily. "Where have you been, Ophilia? Everyone was worried about you."

Ophilia hesitated before looking down to the ground, refusing to meet Lianna's gaze. "Lianna... There is something I must tell you..." The guilt that came to hit Ophilia was almost enough to make her nauseous, and she realized that her earlier lack of repentance was only building up for everything to crash down the instant that she realized what she had done. What if Lianna was upset with her for going behind her back? Would Ophilia even be eligible to go on the Kindling after betraying the church's trust? Was this the end of her time in Flamesgrace? Her actions were sacrilege, and while she had known this previously, recognizing it in the heat of that moment as she struggled under Lianna's gaze was different from previously loosely acknowledging the truth.

A sudden haggard cough cut off Ophilia, and she let out a gasp as she looked over to Josef. "My... My daughters..." he whispered carefully. He was still stretched out in bed, but he seemed to have gained the resolve to try and sit up properly. 

Ophilia and Lianna both dashed to his size, and Lianna wrapped her fingers in his as quickly as she could. "Father!" she cried out. 

"Your Excellency!" Ophilia exclaimed. She hid the Lanthorn even deeper in her cape, the guilt hitting her in newfound waves. She knew that she had made the right choice, but doubt was starting to seep in, and it refused to release her from its grasp. 

"Forgive me, my girls... For making you worry so..." Josef murmured as he slowly locked his eyes on both Lianna and Ophilia. Lianna helped him to sit up, and he gave her a small nod of thanks. His expression softened with sympathy when he noticed how upset she was. "Do not look at me with such sad eyes, Lianna... I will be well again before--" He was cut off by another series of coughs, and it took an uncomfortably long time for him to calm himself once again. Lianna whimpered his name once again before Josef shook his head, a tired yet dismissive gesture that replicated his regular grace but still didn't quite reach it. "I will be well again before long... But now is not the time for such worries. The rite..."

Lianna staggered backwards with a dry exhale that fully portrayed her grief, and Ophilia felt a twist of guilt and terror pass through her core. Lianna didn't want to leave, another sign that Ophilia had made the right decision. Adrenaline began to course through Ophilia's veins anew, a sign of anxiety that she knew she had no power to vanish. She bit down on her lip before swallowing back the rest of her nerves. 

"Your Excellency, I must speak with you," Ophilia said carefully, thinking out each word before it could leave her lips. She could hear nothing save for the crackling of flames and the pounding of her heart in her ears, and she wished that the latter would calm its screaming for just a moment so that she could process her thoughts in full. 

Josef seemed to be able to sense the severity of the matter, and he arched an eyebrow in Ophilia's direction. "What is it, Ophilia?" he asked softly. 

Ophilia let out one final breath, preparing herself for the chaos that was bound to come next. She pushed the Lanthorn out from beneath her cape, trying to ignore the dry taste of her mouth. Why did it feel as if speaking had suddenly become impossible? "I would go on the pilgrimage and complete the Kindling in Lianna's stead," she declared, trying to hide the way her voice wavered. 

Lianna let out a gasp, and her hands flew to her mouth. "That's... Aelfric's Lanthorn?! Ophilia, you...!" She didn't seem to be insulted in the slightest, and fear was the only emotion that flashed through her brown eyes. When Ophilia looked closer, she could see that her sister's hands had begun to shake with anxiety.

Ophilia struggled to maintain eye contact with Lianna as she felt the full weight of her actions all over again. Lianna's staring wasn't helping her to escape her guilt even though she knew that this choice had been for the best. Ophilia's heart was suddenly heavy, like an impossible weight was attempting to suffocate her with each passing moment. 

"Ophilia..." Josef whispered next, his shock playing out upon his face in the blink of an eye. Somehow, it felt as if it was taking place in slow motion as well, and the combination made Ophilia feel as if she was suspended in time with no hope to escape it. She was breathless, and all she could do was stare at him, waiting for the inevitability of either punishment or reassurance.

"You are aware that it is a grave sin for one to enter the Cave of Origin without the church's permission," Josef began. Even so, the reflection in his eyes wasn't one of disappointment in the slightest. Instead, Ophilia could see something that seemed a bit too much like recognition. Josef couldn't have known that this was going to happen, and yet, there he was, proud, afraid, surprised, and familiar with the situation all at the same time, an endless blend that left Ophilia feeling sick to her stomach. 

"I am, Your Excellency," Ophilia finally managed to say, finding that the words came with more difficulty than they had any right to. At the very least, she had managed to find the power to speak once again. That had to count for something, right?

"Ophilia... But... But why...?" Lianna choked out, and Ophilia could have sworn that she saw tears welling up in her companion's eyes. 

"Lianna, leave us now. I would speak with Ophilia alone," Josef suddenly asserted, sounding far more confident and powerful than he had previously. His tone offered no room for objection. 

And yet, Lianna still attempted to protest. "But Father!" she exclaimed, fear appearing in renewed quantities in her eyes. Ophilia looked away from them both, unsure of if she would be able to stand consistent eye contact since they were now aware of what she had done. 

"Worry not. I will not be punishing your sister, Lianna, but there are matters we must discuss," Josef explained. Ophilia felt a sudden wave of relief crash down on her, leaving her to gasp silently. 

Lianna was just as surprised, but she corrected herself a moment later. She looked down to her feet. "I understand... Just... Don't be too hard on her, okay?" she murmured, seeming to struggle to phrase the request. Josef nodded his agreement, and Lianna gave both her father and Ophilia a longing glance before slowly making her way to the door. The tap of the door shutting echoed in Ophilia's mind like a siren.

Josef turned his attention to Ophilia in full once Lianna was gone. "At least it would seem you came through your ill-advised journey in one piece," he began simply, the words holding enough weight that they threatened to crush Ophilia without hesitation. 

Ophilia nodded. "I did, Your Excellency," she whispered. She forced herself to meet his eyes despite the anxiety that was quickly mounting and trying to drag her down into the depths of the snow of Flamesgrace.

"And I can assume you set out with no preparation to speak of. For all your quiet dignity..." Josef said quietly. He shook his head, and Ophilia couldn't tell if he was disappointed or proud somehow. The twist in her stomach told her that it was the former.

"I am sorry, Your Excellency," Ophilia told him, hating how small and insignificant she felt in that moment. The light pull of the Lanthorn suddenly felt like lead between her fingers, the primary chain that would damn her to hell for rebelling against the church and its first and most well-known rule. 

"Oh, Ophilia... I only hope that this kindness of yours will not be your ruin," Josef continued. Ophilia perked up at his words, her confused expression prompting him to continue. "You journeyed to the Cave of Origin so that Lianna might stay here with me, did you not?" Ophilia responded with silence, and that was the only answer Josef needed. "I will inform the pontiff that there has been a change in plans and that you will perform the Kindling in Lianna's stead. Speak with your sister and learn what she has these many months. Your instruction will be abbreviated, but I know you are up to the task."

Ophilia's breath was stolen from her lungs once again. "Your Excellency...!" she whispered. The Ember began to shine a little bit brighter from its place in the Lanthorn, and Ophilia forced herself to not look at it in her moment of endless shock. 

"Your kindness brings warmth and light to all around you, Ophilia, just as does the Sacred Flame," Josef went on. He reached out and took her hand in his own. 

Ophilia sniffled, not realizing that she had started to cry until after the sound reached her ears. "Your Excellency, I..." she began, unsure of where she was going to be headed with the sentence next but doing her best to try anyways.

"Ophilia, when I first took you in, I had a dream," Josef said suddenly, cutting off any thoughts from Ophilia before they could be spoken. 

"A dream?" Ophilia echoed uncertainly, shocked at the sudden change of subject. 

Josef nodded. "A dream of you, bearing the Sacred Flame into the world. Looking back now, I realize it was an omen of what was to come," he explained. Suddenly, Ophilia understood his brief recognition, but the mention of Josef foreseeing this event somehow made her even more nervous than before. "Lianna is a fine daughter, my pride and joy. She has served as a daughter of the church far better than I had any right to expect. But I know that it has not come easily to her. She has given up much of her true self to be who she must be for the church." He paused, and the silence became infinitely more suffocating as sorrow manifested on his features. "I have not yet told Lianna, but I fear that I am not much longer for this world."

Ophilia fell to her knees at his side, desperate to be closer to him. She set the Lanthorn down unceremoniously beside her. "But, Your Excellency! The healers said--"

"I trust that I know my body better than any other," Josef cut in. Ophilia couldn't help the whisper of his name that tumbled from her lips before Josef continued. "Oh, Ophilia... I am so proud of you and Lianna both. Promise me that you will love one another forever..." 

The resignation in his eyes was too much for Ophilia to bear, and tears continued to streak down her cheeks in rivers. She didn't even bother trying to deny them, understanding that it wouldn't have much of a point anyways. "Your Excellency... I..." Before Ophilia could stop herself, she had cried out the one word that she had always thought herself undeserving of saying, and her grasp on Josef's hand grew tighter. "Father, please! Please don't leave us!"

For a brief flash of a moment, Ophilia felt as if she was back in Creek fifteen years before, a scared young girl who had seen the brutality that humanity was capable of. She remembered the flash of steel and the way that blades had so easily pierced through flesh and bone, leaving behind only blood that haunted Ophilia's nightmares on her worst of days. She could never forget the sight of crimson or the stench of death. Josef had been her savior from the torture of grief, and yet, there he was saying that he was going to leave her as well. It was too much for her to bear, and she could feel the fear ripping her apart at the seams despite her attempts to remain composed.

Josef simply squeezed her hand, his eyes flooding with joy as she called him her father. Tears began to fall down his cheeks as well, and Ophilia realized all too late that she hadn't only been depriving herself of the sensation of family, but him as well. All she could do was sit on the floor beside his bed and cry until there was nothing left for her to give. 

~~~~~

Sleep came slowly to Ophilia, and she tossed and turned the whole night through. By the time she had risen to be sent out for the Kindling, she felt hollow and empty, Josef's words still ringing in her ears. She had to make sure that Lianna didn't find out from her though. She could hide it for a brief time, couldn't she?

After the preparations were finished, Ophilia walked down the stairs outside the cathedral with Lianna. No snow fell from the skies, and that only made the morning more eerie than it already was. 

"And with that, I should be off," Ophilia declared as she turned to Lianna. They had done one final check of her supplies before leaving, and there was nothing left for her to do before the journey began. "Do take care."

"Take care yourself... I think Father was looking a little better today, don't you think?" Lianna posed with a gentle yet somber smile. "We nearly had to tie him to his bed, he so wished to be here too."

Ophilia bit back her words and her tears as she nodded. "It's good to know he's acting more like himself again," she said simply.

Ophilia was almost relieved when Lianna took a few steps away in contemplation. "Ophilia... I owe you an apology," she suddenly confessed. 

Ophilia's voice shook when she spoke. "Whatever for, Lianna?"

"When I first heard that you would go on the pilgrimage in my stead... To tell you the truth, I was relieved. The thought that I could stay here with Father instead of worrying about the Kindling..." Lianna trailed off as she looked back to her sister with tears in her eyes. "I knew you would be putting yourself in great danger, and yet... I was so happy. Can you forgive me, Ophilia?"

Ophilia shook her head as she approached Lianna and locked their hands together. "Oh, please. I'm the one who should apologize. I have no right to be here, and yet... Here I am."

"I know that you only wanted to help me," Lianna cut in. She wrapped her arms around Ophilia's body. "And knowing that you will perform the rite in my stead makes me happier than anything."

Ophilia hesitated before returning the embrace. "Thank you, Lianna." They held the hug for a moment before Ophilia stepped back. "And so, my journey begins. To Saintsbridge, Goldshore, and finally, back to Flamesgrace. Light the flames in each town. Perform the Kindling as our forebears have. I'll be gone for a while, but if ever you or Father need me, pray send for me at once."

Lianna nodded. "Thank you, Ophilia. Really do take care of yourself, okay?" she asked

Ophilia nodded in return with a fond smile. "Let us see how Saintsbridge treats me," she said. She bowed her head to Lianna. "Till we meet again, dear sister. May the Sacred Flame light your path."

"And may it ever shine its warmth upon you," Lianna returned. She shared one final glance with Ophilia before the latter began to walk down the stairs, the Ember and Lanthorn in her grasp shining as a beacon among the darkened morning light. 

As Ophilia traveled through Flamesgrace, she let out a tense sigh. If she was fast enough with the Kindling, she would be able to return in time to see Josef one last time. That was her greatest hope, at the very least. She had bid him farewell the day before just in case, but Ophilia was choosing to cling to her hope to the bitter end. Perhaps he would recover despite his concerns that he was on the verge of passing away. Ophilia would pray daily to Aelfric for such if it would potentially bring him safety. 

_I believe in you._

There it was again. The woman's voice had been absent ever since Ophilia first set out to find the Ember, but Ophilia couldn't help feeling that something about it was simply right, as if the pieces of her life were finally slipping back into place. She didn't know how to describe it, but the world seemed to fall into striking clarity when the words echoed in her mind. 

Ophilia allowed the simple phrase of encouragement to push her forward, and she came to a stop outside the border of Flamesgrace. She gave one final glance over her shoulder at the town, rubbing at her eyes with one hand. Her next destination was Saintsbridge, though in the short-term, she would be stopping by Atlasdam to retrieve any extra supplies as well as to eat. She would reach Saintsbridge soon enough if she was quick, and from there, her target would be Goldshore. She was determined to find her way back home soon enough.

Ophilia vanished into the blusters of snow outside of Flamesgrace, beginning the journey that should have never been hers. The Ember began to shine once again, acting as a beacon that staved off even the darkest of shadows. She would be able to return to her family soon enough. All she had to do was press on for a while longer. Countless others had performed this rite, and it fell to her next.

_Child of Aelfric... May you succeed in your journey._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is it with me and posting these chapters stupidly late at night? It's four in the morning. Oops, I guess?
> 
> And so ends Ophilia's story for now! Next up, we'll be seeing Cyrus (as was stated with the Atlasdam mention). I don't have much to say about this chapter, but there is one thing I wish to highlight before we fully move towards Cyrus. Up until now, I've been very careful with the way that the narration refers to Josef and Lianna; since it's narrow through Ophilia's perspective, I wanted to minimize all mentions of them as her father and sister until the critical moment at the end of the chapter. It's a subtle thing, but I still wanted to point it out. 
> 
> Speaking of that, if you think that this is the last we're going to see of Ophilia's insecurities, you would be veeeeery mistaken. I'm adding in a bunch of other content for the characters to develop as people throughout this story, and Ophilia is just the tip of the iceberg. The voice of the woman is another facet of that, and we'll get to that soon enough. For now, I'm going to bid you goodnight with this new chapter since I need to get some sleep. I have school in five hours and haven't slept a wink. Oops. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> -Digital


	6. Cyrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Cyrus, and you are a scholar. 
> 
> You teach at the Royal Academy in Atlasdam, and though you have numerous admirers, your only true passion is the pursuit of knowledge. There is so much more you would learn. One day, you realize that an invaluable tome has vanished from the Royal Library, piquing your insatiable curiosity and setting you out on the journey of a lifetime...

Within the stony halls of the Atlasdam Palace, resplendent red curtains shone brightly with the morning sunshine. The city outside was buzzing with activity, but within a room on the second floor, class was being held. Two intent pupils kept their eyes locked on their professor from his place atop a pedestal at the head of the room. Sunlight highlighted his features, and Cyrus Albright smiled brightly with enthusiasm that no person could ever hope to rival. 

Cyrus' hair was a dark color, and it was tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck. It never seemed to settle properly despite the care he put into the rest of his appearance. A dark cape was draped over his shoulders over a white shirt with puffed sleeves. His shirt was a deep hue of gray, and elaborate golden swirls adorned the surface of the fabric. He wore black trousers that tucked seamlessly into his knee-high boots. Cyrus was the picture of elegance, and the smile on his face only made him seem more perfect than one would have ever anticipated. 

"And so it was that our Atlasdam was founded two centuries ago," Cyrus concluded as he reached the end of a speech regarding the creation of the town that he had known and loved his whole life. The history of Atlasdam had been the primary subject of his lecture for the day, and he had been looking forward to it from the instant he woke up that morning. If there was one thing that Cyrus loved above all else, it was history, and teaching such tales of the past to others brought joy to his heart like nothing else in existence. "Indeed, our fair city-state is among the longest standing on the continent of Orsterra. But there was another city-state with a history as long and proud as our own that came to a tragic ruin only eight short years ago."

Cyrus finished speaking and started to walk across the podium. A map was pressed against the wall behind him, and it detailed all of the smaller tidbits about Orsterra. He stepped aside and offered full display of the current view of the continent as he held up one hand to the design. "Now, who can tell me its name?" Cyrus questioned. He looked back and forth between his two students before settling his gaze on the one standing in front of him. "How about you, Therese?"

The young woman started upon being addressed, and pink flooded her cheeks as she attempted to regain her composure. Her hair was a pale color that seemed to border on being a perfect lavender, and it shone in the sunshine like the moon itself had been plucked from the sky and then given human form through Therese. She wore purple clothing to match her hair, and Therese's eyes were a crisp blue color that faltered with anxiety when she realized that Cyrus was inquiring for an answer. "I... Um... I think it was..." she began, her voice wavering with uncertainty. 

Cyrus shook his head. "Now, now. No need to get all flustered," he assured her. His smile was careful, a sign that he wasn't upset with her at all for her lack of knowledge. "There's no shame in not knowing an answer so long as you have a desire to learn. The answer is in your textbook. Go on, now. Look it up."

Cyrus remained patient as Therese began to flick through the pages of her book. She was desperate to be fast enough to keep the attention off her for a moment, though Therese seemed to be more bothered by the other student in the room than Cyrus himself. She flashed a glance out of the corner of her eye towards her peer before biting her lip and turning through a few more pages. "Yes, Professor..." Therese stammered. "Let's see... I believe it was... Hornburg?"

Cyrus' smile returned in full swing once again. "That is correct!" he chimed, not seeming to notice the way that Therese beamed upon noticing that she had earned his approval. "Hornburg was ruled over by a royal family said to be descended from priests of an ancient and long-forgotten religion. On the other hand, our fair Atlasdam was founded by one of the original claims that inhabited the Flatlands." 

Cyrus stopped speaking briefly once again as he paced across the podium to the other end of the area. "Who can tell me how many clans lived in the Flatlands at the time?" Cyrus questioned. His eyes found the other student in his classroom next. "Your Highness?"

The other girl in the room, Mary, was the princess of Atlasdam and the next in line for the throne. If Therese was the moon, Mary was the sun, bold, bright, and unyielding. Her hair was golden in color, and it fell down to her lower back in gentle waves that defined her as the pinnacle of elegance. Her eyes were bright green emeralds that shone vibrantly. Her clothing was white and lined with gold, a sign of her royal heritage and the money that lived in her family thanks to the blood that coursed through her veins. 

Mary nodded without a moment of hesitation, and a proud smile appeared on her face as she answered Cyrus' question. "The histories have it that eight clans lived in the Flatlands in those days," she replied immediately. 

Cyrus nodded, his smile still bright and unyielding. "Correct you are, Your Highness! It was a time of great strife here in the Flatlands, as the eight clans waged a long and bitter war. Change would come when the armies of Grandport invaded these lands some two centuries ago. At the time, the rulers of Grandport sought to exert their influence over territories inland. Ironically, this compelled the warring tribes to put aside their differences and unite against their common foe," he explained. 

Cyrus didn't realize how long he had been speaking until he saw that a man had made his way into the room while he was speaking. The man was a familiar one to Cyrus, a messenger for the royal family undoubtedly there to retrieve Mary for her afternoon duties. "Oh, but look at the time! We'll pick up where we left off next time," he said, allowing his smile to shift to one of awkwardness when he recognized just how long he had been talking for. As Mary and Therese began to pull their things together to depart, Cyrus offered one final comment. "Don't forget to read chapters three and four of your textbook before our next lecture, and be prepared to answer questions on any of the material within."

"Thank you, Professor," Therese said as both she and Mary nodded. Therese pulled her bag over her shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles and creases of her skirt as she rose to her feet. Her eyes spoke of something hidden and shaded, but she didn't say anything beyond that. 

Therese was already starting to walk towards the door when Cyrus stepped down from the podium and began to walk towards the exit of the room. Mary's voice caught his attention before he could properly depart, and Therese stopped in her tracks. "Thank you for another most stimulating lecture, Professor Albright," Mary told Cyrus in her high-pitched yet melodic voice. 

"You are most welcome," Cyrus responded as he moved towards the door. Therese deflated, not bothering to follow him, as Mary smiled at his response. She continued packing her things soon afterwards, and Cyrus shut the door behind himself carefully as he excused himself in full.

Cyrus had only just rounded the corner outside of the classroom when he was stopped by a guard wearing the traditional armor of the Atlasdam knights. "Ah, Professor Albright. Mercedes from the Royal Library came by with a message for you. Seems today's your lucky day. You've been granted permission to enter the special archives," the knight explained.

Cyrus let out a gasp before a smile appeared on his face. He had been petitioning for permission to investigate the archives for quite some time, and it appeared that his wish had finally been fulfilled. "Splendid! Finally, I can begin my research," he smiled. There were many matters that Cyrus found to be intriguing, but magic was easily one of the top subjects on his list. The special archives held many one of a kind volumes about different types of magic, and since Cyrus was looking to further his arcane abilities, this was just what he had been waiting for. 

The guard walked away with a brief nod, and Cyrus began to walk as quickly as he could through the halls of the palace. If he had been given the chance to enter the archives, then he had to make haste. This was a chance that he had been waiting for, and he refused to pass it up. His boots clicked against the stone ground below as he granted brief greetings to those he encountered on the way out of the building.

Cyrus was at the base of the stairs when he could have sworn that he heard someone calling out his name. It sounded like Therese, but he couldn't see any details from his position, and he was left to wonder if perhaps he had imagined it. In truth, she was hiding behind a nearby railing as she watched him cautiously, but Cyrus remained oblivious to her presence. She had slipped away while he was occupied with the knight of Atlasdam, but she was the only one to have done so.

"Professor Albright!" 

The voice of Mary quickly shifted Cyrus' attention, and he glanced up to see that Mary was walking down the stairs quickly with a bright smile on her face. "Oh, thank heavens you're still here!" Mary cried out as she speedily descended the remaining stairs, gathering her skirt in one hand to keep from tripping along the way. "I thought I had missed you."

Cyrus shook his head to dismiss the thought. "What can I do for you, Your Highness?" he asked. 

"If you can spare the time, I had a question about something we learned today," Mary explained. She smoothed out her skirt as she waited in eager anticipation for a response. 

"But of course, Your Highness! It would be my pleasure to answer anything," Cyrus replied, a bright smile breaking out across his face once again. "After all, my role as your tutor is as important to me as any of my research. Unfortunately, I cannot spare much time. Is the question a quick one?" As glad as he was to answer her inquiries, Cyrus knew that the archives would not wait for him forever. He had been patient in waiting for the time that he would be accepted into the secret halls of the library, and he refused to allow this chance to slip away from him.

"Yes, Professor. It will not take long," Mary assured him as she took another step closer to him. "I was just wondering about the ancient religion of Hornburg. Pray tell, what did they worship?"

"A very astute question, Your Highness," Cyrus commented. "However, I fear that nearly all the texts detailing the nature of the religion were burned and lost when Hornburg fell."

Mary nodded, her expression falling from chipper to something somewhat upset. "I see... A shame, that is," she remarked under her breath. 

"I do, however, have a theory of my own," Cyrus told her quickly, not at all fond of seeing Mary so crestfallen. He disliked seeing anyone upset, but given his duty to teach Mary in the ways of the world, he was particularly unhappy when he saw her grow sorrowful. It didn't fit her sunny disposition in the slightest. "I believe that the members of the royal family of Hornburg were guardians of an ancient power... Mind you, this is not idle speculation. My theory is based on the fact that..."

As Cyrus continued to explain the ins and outs of his proposal, Therese let out a small sigh from her place behind the nearby railing. She was quiet enough to keep from being heard, but her disappointment was immeasurable. Tears were starting to well up in her eyes by the time that Cyrus and Mary had finished their conversation, and she was left still as a statue as she waited for them to finish speaking about the theory regarding Hornburg's history.

Mary's voice cut through the air in a way that felt all too perfect as Therese was starting to rub the tears from her face with the heel of her hand. "Let us continue this discussion another time. My apologies for keeping you, Professor," she said, a melodic laugh pushing its way free of her lips. "I suppose that we both lost track of time when we began talking."

Cyrus shook his head. "No need for apologies! And it would be my pleasure, Your Highness," he assured her. "That such questions occur to you is a sign of a sharp and curious mind. It's lovely to see from any student."

"Your lectures on the history of the realm are fascinating to me," Mary confessed as she began to grin. "For if I do not learn of our past, how can I hope to lead my people to a bright future?"

"A most admirable philosophy," Cyrus remarked kindly. "The people of this land are truly fortunate to be led by one of such wisdom and kindness as yourself, as I am sincerely fortunate to have to have the opportunity to serve in some small way."

Pink began to tint Mary's cheeks as she shook her head, suddenly struggling to meet Cyrus' gaze under the influence of his unintentional flattery. "You are far too kind, Professor Albright. I am proud to be your student as well."

Cyrus smiled in return before a thought occurred to him. He let out a gasp as he glanced to the door. "Oh, dear, I'm running late," he murmured softly. "Pray do not forget your assignment, Your Highness."

"Of course, Professor," Mary replied. She gave him a soft wave before pivoting on her heel and starting up the nearby stairwell. She disappeared into the deeper recesses of the palace soon afterwards, and Cyrus watched her vanish from sight before turning his attention to his next destination. 

As he walked towards the entrance of the palace, he saw a flash of purple and silver out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see Therese standing against the stone wall, her gaze cast forlornly on the ground below. Cyrus grinned once more before greeting her. "Oh, hello there, Therese," he said simply.

Nearby, Therese's fingers began to dig into her palms as she did her best to hide her emotions. She didn't bother looking up at Cyrus, instead concentrating on the place where her shoes met the ground below. She refused to allow him to see that she had been on the verge of tears. Luckily for her, Cyrus didn't notice, and he continued without hesitation. "Did you have a question for me as well?" he inquired.

Therese's first action was to backpedal, and she shook her head. "I... I mean... Um..." she stammered before letting out a sigh. "No. Good day, Professor." She was quick when she dashed towards the door, and she disappeared from view a moment later, leaving behind only a bewildered Cyrus in the entryway of the Atlasdam palace. 

He did his best to shake off the curiosity before walking out of the palace and through the stony streets of Atlasdam. As was typical for mornings in the city, activity was plentiful, and people bustled in every direction trying to go about their daily routines. Cyrus wove in and out between the crowds before making his way to the library, and he pushed open the door before making his way to the desk at the back of the building. 

"Good day, Mercedes. Cyrus Albright, here to browse the special archives," Cyrus explained, smiling to the receptionist of the library brightly. 

Mercedes responded with a laugh as she shook her head, leaving her light brown hair to shift slightly from its place in a neat bun at the back of her head. "Oh, Professor Albright. You're looking quite eager today," she remarked casually. 

Cyrus laughed as well, and when he spoke, his words were filled with sunshine itself. "When I heard that an original copy of _The Church of the Flame: The Complete Historie_ had been donated to our archives, I simply had to be the first to see it," he explained. 

"You're more on top of our collection than I am," Mercedes commented. She slid a piece of paper and a matching quill across the desk. "Just sign here..."

"With pleasure!" Cyrus reached out for the quill and quickly signed his name in grand, swirling characters. When he was finished, he set the pen down with a sense of strong authority that could not be rivaled. However, when he looked up, he could see that Mercedes' expression had faltered. "Hm? Is something amiss?"

"For someone known as the most brilliant mind in the Royal Academy..." Mercedes began, her voice trailing off before falling into nothingness. "When you talk about boys, you're as giddy as a schoolboy."

Cyrus laughed, and his jubilation seemed to fill the back area of the library. "When you put it that way, yes, you are correct. Much as a child is fascinated by a new toy... I am titillated by the prospect of acquiring new knowledge."

"The expression on your face says it all," Mercedes assured him. She pushed herself away from her desk and rose from her seat, flattening out the wrinkles in her skirt along the way. "Everything seems to be in order. Enjoy your quest for knowledge, Professor."

Mercedes approached the door waiting behind her desk. Cyrus had long dreamed of going beyond the barrier of wood to see what the archives had to offer him, and at long last, he was being given the chance. Mercedes was the unofficial guardian of the archives, and she was all too happy to twist the knob and gesture for Cyrus to enter. 

"Many thanks, my dear! I most certainly will," Cyrus told her. He waved simply to Mercedes as he walked into the door behind her, and he was met with a lengthy set of stairs that descended into the ground below. Cyrus began his approach to the archives themselves, and his footsteps echoed in the dark yet perfectly clean space. A few candles were lit on the wall, and they were hidden within sconces along the way to the archives. Cyrus gave them a respectful smile, unable to hide his gleaming grin with the royal archives finally within his grasp. His dreams were coming true right before his eyes, and he hardly knew what to do with himself.

As soon as Cyrus reached the archives, he began his search through the area. There were a few lights illuminating the room, and the books were organized as neatly as could be. Cyrus brushed his fingers against the spines of the books, feeling the perfection of the leather bound tightly alongside parchment. He sighed to himself and began to explore in full. 

The filing system was identical to the way that the library was organized, and Cyrus searched the room while looking at the covers. They were in alphabetical order as expected. He was looking for the area with books starting with 'C', and luckily for him, it didn't take long to find what he was searching for. 

However, as Cyrus began to examine the spines of the books, he found that he was unable to locate the book in question. He frowned to himself and searched once again. Sure enough, his findings had come up short, and _The Church of the Flame: The Complete Historie_ was nowhere to be found. No matter how many times he looked, he was never able to locate it, leaving Cyrus to frown deeply to himself.

"There must be a mistake..." Cyrus murmured as he continued his search. Perhaps the book had simply been returned to the wrong location. That wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility. He began to skim through the shelves once again, but he was met with the same results as before: nothing that even resembled the book in question appeared to him. 

"The archives are strictly guarded and curated... Wherever could it have gone?" Cyrus asked into the silence. He placed one hand against his chin and allowed his eyes to slip closed. There had to be a logical explanation for this, and if he looked closely enough, he would be able to find it. Perhaps someone else was temporarily borrowing the book. Then again, if that was the case, Mercedes certainly would have mentioned it when he said that was what he was hoping to see. On top of that, only a select handful had access to the archives. Cyrus could count on one hand who could enter the space on a regular basis.

Knuckles rapped against the wall, and Cyrus turned to see that Mercedes had descended the stairwell into the archives. "Professor Albright, the headmaster would see you at once," she told him. 

Cyrus let out a sigh, trying not to show his disappointment with his employer. It almost felt like petty targeting that the headmaster had asked to see him now of all times. "Of all the times to... Oh, well," he said softly. He took a few steps towards the door before his curiosity began to mount once again. "Might I ask of you a favor?"

Mercedes seemed to notice the weight that his words carried as she took a hesitant step forward. "What might that be?" she questioned. 

"The tome I mentioned before seems to have gone missing. Might you help me to locate it, please?" Cyrus explained. 

"Missing?" Mercedes echoed, her eyes wide in surprise. "Hm... I'll begin looking at once, Professor." She approached the shelves and began to examine the volumes in detail. 

"Many thanks," Cyrus told Mercedes as he moved towards the door. He ascended back to the main area of the library and left the building behind. His target was the Royal Academy for better or worse. If the headmaster wished to see him, then that could only mean something upsetting was taking place. Cyrus rarely saw eye to eye with his employer, and he was admittedly concerned for what the upcoming conversation would have in store for him. 

When Cyrus arrived at the academy, he moved to the second floor and approached the grand pair of doors that housed the headmaster's office. He knocked swiftly and curtly before taking a step back to wait for entry. "Cyrus Albright, by your request, sir."

"Enter."

Hearing the voice from within prompted Cyrus to push the doors open, and he walked inside slowly. The headmaster's office was just as he remembered it between the ornate desk, expensive bookshelves, and lavish curtains. Cyrus held himself with pride as he walked inside, doing his best to not make it seem as if he was as suspicious as he felt inside. Something about this felt wrong, and he pressed his lips together tightly into a line out of internalized concern.

Across the room, two people could be seen. First was Cyrus' employer, Headmaster Yvon. He had dark hair that was starting to gray, and the silver streaks could be seen in the morning sunshine that streamed in through the windows. He wore black robes lined with gold to show how prestigious his position was, and his eyes, as bright and deep as crimson rubies, stared at Cyrus with something that appeared to be passive contempt. Cyrus did his best to keep from returning the favor, and the awful feeling in his stomach only began to grow worse. 

The other person in the space was Lucia, Yvon's assistant and a longtime helper at the Royal Academy. Her hair was black, but tints of purple could be seen in the same light that exposed Yvon's age. She wore a bold violet dress that contrasted its confidence with her understated aura. The cloak around her shoulders was black, and her eyes were impossible to read. Cyrus had never fully understood what was going through Lucia's mind, and that remained true as he waited for one of them to speak. 

"My apologies for summoning you on such short notice," Yvon told Cyrus, but it was clear as could be from the malice that dripped off his words that he wasn't truly sorry at all. His eyes remained unreadable, but the passive anger resting beneath the surface made Cyrus nervous all over again. 

He shoved the sensation aside and took a few steps closer to Yvon and Lucia. "How might I be of assistance, Headmaster?" Cyrus questioned. He was simply waiting for everything to boil over and spiral into hell. 

"That treatise on arcane studies you published... What in the gods' names were you thinking?" Yvon questioned, and Cyrus' suspicions were confirmed as Yvon's gaze shifted from a mercurial glance to a hardened glare. 

"Sir? I do believe I made my hypothesis perfectly clear..." Cyrus told Yvon. The thesis in question had involved Cyrus providing evidence that perhaps there were more elements of magic that could be used beyond simply the basic group of six that was known across Orsterra. He had found proof from the time of the gods to back up such a concept, and he was sure that he had shown perfectly what he thought on the matter. 

"I'm not talking about your hypothesis!" Yvon shouted. The rage in his eyes certainly seemed to be adding heat to a whistling kettle, and the metaphorical boiling water began to drip over the side of Yvon's previous composure. "You went out of your way to cite one of the texts in our special archives! The knowledge housed in those tomes is the Royal Academy's greatest treasure! It is not to be divulged to the public at your whim. Laying it bare in one of your silly papers is out of the question!"

Cyrus took a step forward, his own passion beginning to steam. Perhaps this was one reason that Yvon had been so hesitant to allow him into the archives. Mercedes had allowed Cyrus to borrow individual tomes before, but he hadn't been given the chance to enter the space until that day. It seemed that in between the time of Cyrus receiving permission and his arrival in Yvon's office, his employer had come to his own conclusions about his work.

Still, Cyrus did his best to remain composed. "I am fully aware of the value of those tomes, Headmaster. It is for that very reason that I would share the knowledge with my peers--"

"You are to share nothing! That wisdom is for the academy and the academy alone!" Yvon suddenly exclaimed angrily, slamming his hand onto his desk. Cyrus flinched. Lucia remained as still as a statue, just as silent as ever. 

"But that goes against everything--" Cyrus tried to protest.

"Enough, Cyrus!" Yvon screamed, bringing any objections to silence. Cyrus pressed his lips together once again. He knew that arguing wasn't going to do him any good. Yvon had always had a differing philosophy than Cyrus himself; while Cyrus viewed knowledge as something to be shared and cherished, Yvon treated it as a priceless medal, hoarding it the way that beasts of old held tightly to the shiniest of gemstones. Knowledge was power, and power was meant to be hoarded as far as Yvon was concerned. Cyrus' ideals of kindness had always brought him to clash with the headmaster, but that didn't mean their arguments were pleasant.

Instead, Cyrus let out a stiff sigh through his nose. "My apologies, Headmaster. It won't happen again. Is there anything else you need of me?" he questioned, suddenly yearning to be anywhere but there. 

"That is all," Yvon said, his voice practically a snarl. "You may go." Cyrus had only taken one step towards the door, not taking his eyes off Yvon, before his employer continued. "Wait. There was one last thing."

"Sir?" Cyrus questioned carefully, understanding to not push the matter too hard. 

"I heard the special archives will be closing early today. If you have research to do there, I would do so quickly," Yvon replied, his voice still a dark and irritated growl. 

Cyrus knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was Yvon's way of punishing him. He hadn't heard anything of this from Mercedes earlier in the day, and Yvon was the one who decided who entered the special archives. This transgression would not go forgotten, and Cyrus doubted he would get the chance to investigate again anytime soon. Yvon had been merciful before, but such would not last much longer. 

"Thank you for your concern, Headmaster," Cyrus said through the illusion of neutrality. "In that case, I'll be on my way." He walked quickly towards the door this time, and once he was gone from the room, he made his way to the royal archives. He had to enjoy this chance to investigate the archives as long as it lasted. For all he knew, this would be his first and last opportunity to do so. 

~~~~~

A knock fell on the doors of Yvon's office once again soon after Cyrus had left the area behind. Yvon was sitting at his desk when he responded, doing his best to hold back a frustrated sigh. "Enter," he drawled. 

Therese slowly walked inside, her hands trembling and her teeth clamped firmly on the skin inside of her lip. She struggled to walk straight under the influence of her nerves. "Excuse me, Headmaster..." she began softly. 

Yvon rose to his full height, and Lucia watched from her place in the corner of the room where she was examining the bookshelves. "Yes? What is it, Therese?" Yvon questioned.

Therese took in a large breath before exhaling shakily. "It's... It's about Professor Albright, sir..." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I would be releasing this tonight. Oops?
> 
> Here we are with the first part of Cyrus' story though! Hell yeah! Cyrus is one of my favorite characters in the cast, and I love writing for him. I'm especially looking forward to having him meet up with Ophilia so that we can get the character banter started. 
> 
> Speaking of that, Ophilia should be showing up either next chapter or the chapter after that. I promise that I haven't forgotten about her. I know exactly how she's going to cross paths with Cyrus, so the scene is already planned out, we just need to get there and then dive into it. Woohoo!
> 
> For now, I don't have all that much left to say. I'm going to go to sleep since, as is tradition at this point, I'm writing this stupid late at night. Time for rest since I have to wake up in five hours. Whoops. Until next time, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> -Digital


	7. Scholar

When Cyrus arrived back at the Royal Library, his anguish towards Yvon was still burning strong. Cyrus was hardly the type to be completely consumed by his emotions in such a way, but the blatant misbehavior of his superior was beyond unsettling. Yvon was only doing this to rub Cyrus the wrong way after he dared to step out of line. Yvon had yearned for further control for as long as Cyrus could remember, and today was no exception. He wondered if he would ever truly be able to cooperate with his superior without being caught up in thoughts about all of Yvon's odd actions. 

Cyrus shut the door carefully behind him as he entered the library, and when he did, he saw Mercedes behind the desk. She looked up when she heard that someone had entered the library, and she rose to her feet before approaching him. "Ah, Professor Albright," she greeted. 

Cyrus walked to her side before speaking in return, making sure to keep his voice down so that the others in the library were undisturbed. "Did you have any luck finding the tome?" he questioned. 

Mercedes winced as she looked at the ground. "I'm afraid not..." she replied softly. 

Cyrus closed his eyes in contemplation. "Well, this is most unfortunate. One might conclude that it has been stolen," he murmured, talking more to himself than Mercedes. 

Mercedes responded regardless of his intentions, and her eyes went wide with aghast shock. "Professor, taking books out from these archives is strictly forbidden," she reminded him. "And as you know, the keys to the vault are entrusted to only a select few! Quite honestly, it would be easier to steal the crown off the king's head."

Cyrus fell silent as he was lost in his own thoughts. "An impregnable vault... A disappearing tome..." he whispered to himself. Once again, Mercedes overhearing him was little more than an afterthought. "It would seem we have quite the mystery on our hands. And the mysteries of the world are meant to be solved! ...Or so the scholar in me says. Wouldn't you agree?"

Mercedes didn't seem as confident, and she shifted anxiously back and forth between her feet. "If it _had_ been stolen, I would say it's a job for the city guard..." she cautioned Cyrus. "But I can see you won't let it go until you've 'cracked the case,' as it were."

He nodded with a laugh. "You could say that, indeed. A habit I just can't seem to break," he agreed. "Once a puzzle is placed before me, I simply cannot rest until I've worked out a solution."

"Well, far be it from me to stand in your way," Mercedes told him, and no small amount of humor made its way into her voice as she shook her head, well used to Cyrus' antics by now. "It must be tough being a genius."

"I'll not deny it!" Cyrus confessed with a shrug. "Worry not--the tome will be back on the shelf before you can bat an eyelash." The smile that spread across his face was filled to the brim with pride, and the sun itself seemed to be gleaming through his eyes. 

"Right. Thanks," Mercedes told him with a gentle grin of her own. "Best of luck in your search." She returned to her place at her desk as Cyrus made his way towards the door of the library, and she watched him dutifully until the hinges creaked gently to signify his departure.

This was not going to be an easy case for him to figure out. There wasn't much information to go off, and for all Cyrus knew the tome was already far from Atlasdam's walls by that point. Still, that didn't mean that he wasn't going to try. The tome had arrived at the archives rather recently, so he couldn't have had too much of a disadvantage. If he put his mind to it, perhaps he would be able to find the answer sooner rather than later. 

"Now, where to begin my search...?" Cyrus whispered to himself, slipping once again into his old habit of muttering under his breath. He had never even bothered trying to break such a routine, believing that it helped him to get his thoughts out into the open more clearly. He would certainly need that at a moment like this. "I suppose I should inquire with Mercedes as to where the keys to the library are stored. The guard at the front door would know who has been frequenting the library lately. As might my fellow scholars..." Cyrus fell quiet for a moment before finishing his suggestions to himself. "Then, mayhap, I should pay the headmaster a visit as well..."

Cyrus truly did hate having to confess that he needed to speak with Yvon. It was the last thing that he wanted to do given their recent altercation, and he somehow doubted that Yvon was going to be willing to speak with him on equal footing. Granted, there was no such thing as equal footing as far as Yvon was concerned given how obsessed with power he was, but Cyrus suspected that their previous argument was only going to make matters more difficult. 

For the time being, Cyrus turned his attention to the guard positioned beside the door. There was a chair next to the library's entrance, and the guard's visor was down. He was slouched forward, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest implied that he was asleep. Cyrus frowned to himself before carefully reaching out a hand. "Excuse me," he said simply. 

It only took a brief shake on the shoulder for the guard to snap out of his slumber. He snorted as he returned to his regular posture, glancing around in panic. "P-Professor Albright!" he cried out in surprise. 

"Good day to you, sir," Cyrus greeted, doing his best to remain cordial despite the weakness he had seen from the guard. "Might I ask you about the archives? I believe that a theft might have occurred involving a rare tome. Do you happen to have keys to the vault beneath the library?"

The guard nodded furiously, still trying to cover his tracks. "Of course I've got a key to the archives," he told Cyrus quickly, his anxiety clearly skyrocketing. 

Cyrus figured that he would make no progress as long as the elephant in the room continued to disturb them. He frowned before speaking once again. "Were you sleeping?" he questioned deliberately. Cyrus glanced down at the guard's hip and saw that the hook that was meant to hold the key to the archives was empty. No matter what the guard said, Cyrus had been given the information to receive an answer.

"No, I wasn't sleeping," the guard assured him despite how obvious the lie was. "I was resting my eyes, that's all. B-But even if I was sleeping, what would it matter? What kind of fool would bother stealing a worthless tome anyways?"

Cyrus watched the man for a moment, and he nodded quietly. "Thank you for your time," he told the guard before walking into the library. The guard watched him pass, still clearly shaken at being disturbed. Cyrus didn't give him a second glance. 

Inside the library, Cyrus approached Mercedes. "I do promise to make this quick," he assured her when confusion crossed over her gaze. "Who has keys to the archives?" 

"Only Headmaster Yvon and the guard stationed outside should have keys to the archives," Mercedes replied. "Do you believe that one of them could be responsible?"

Cyrus shook his head. "It's impossible to say right now, but I'll return to you as soon as I have an answer. Thank you again for your time, Mercedes." She nodded in response, and Cyrus walked towards the door of the library. He could go to the Royal Academy next, and it would be easy to speak with both a fellow scholar and the headmaster there. 

On the way out, Cyrus was hit by the sudden sensation that he was being watched. He stopped in his tracks and peered around a nearby bookshelf. Sure enough, there was someone watching from around the wooden frame of the furniture, and Cyrus recognized the face immediately. Russell had been working at the Officers Academy for the past three years, and while Cyrus would never go so far as to say that they knew one another well, they were most certainly acquainted. 

Russell had always been the jittery type, but something about him felt different as Cyrus cautiously approached him. He hadn't been able to learn about who was frequenting the library from the guard due to his sleepy habits, but there was a chance that Russell would be able to offer him with the answers that he needed. 

"Excuse me, Russell," Cyrus began carefully. Russell looked like a caged animal, and when Cyrus looked closer, he could see that the man's hands were shaking. "Would you happen to know anything about the keys to the archives?"

Russell seemed to grow paler by a shade, but Cyrus chose to not take away too much from it. "The key to the archives? Oh, I haven't got that..." he replied, stammering to get the words out. "Why are you asking me about it in the first place?"

"A tome was stolen from the archives, and I'm attempting to track it down," Cyrus explained. He could see the way that Russell struggled to sit still, and the anxiety mounting in the man's eyes was palpable enough to make Cyrus frown intensely. "Have you seen anyone out of the ordinary frequenting the library as of late? You would know as a scholar of the Royal Academy."

Russell shook his head forcefully, and Cyrus couldn't help but feel as if the other man was trying to convince him a bit too much. "N-No, nobody strange has come by here..." he replied. Cyrus' gaze shifted to a glare, and Russell swallowed nervously before continuing to talk, his tongue clearly getting the best of him as he rambled at the speed of light. "But I'm not surprised someone stole a tome, considering what they're worth. I've got gambling debts myself, so I understand the temptation... But I didn't steal the tome!"

Cyrus held himself back from pointing out that he had never accused Russell of such. Instead, he focused on the light jingling sound that he heard when Russell shifted back and forth between his feet. "Thank you for your assistance," Cyrus told Russell as he turned on his heel and left the archives behind. 

As he made his way to the Royal Academy, Cyrus busied himself with musings about Russell's strange behavior so that he wouldn't have to think about the fact that he was off to see Yvon on his own terms after their issues earlier in the day. Russell had been anxious before, but his nerves only seemed to grow worse when he saw Cyrus was inquiring about the tome. Cyrus was left to wonder if perhaps this was important somehow. Russell was, by nature, a jittery person, but Cyrus couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about it this time. 

Cyrus' thoughts were ultimately shelved when he arrived at the Royal Academy's doors. He walked inside and began walking as quickly as he could without gathering excessive attention to his purpose. Yvon's threat lingered in the back of his mind, and Cyrus knew that he wouldn't be able to go back to the archives if he took too long speaking with his superior. 

By the time that Cyrus had arrived at Yvon's door, he knew what he had to do. He knocked firmly and waited for a response. By the time that Yvon had bid him entry, Cyrus had already organized the words that he was going to speak, and he approached Yvon's desk carefully. 

Yvon was sitting alone in the office, and Lucia was nowhere to be found. Cyrus cast such a fact out of his mind, instead doing his best to seal away the animosity found in Yvon's scowl. Once again, it seemed as if there was something different about Yvon, though Cyrus somehow doubted that it was at all related to the cause of Russell's earlier nerves. 

"Cyrus," Yvon commented blankly, his eyes not lacking for anger. "What do you want?" The bluntness to his words was startling and upsetting, and Cyrus did his best to ignore it in favor of focusing on the mission. For all he knew, this was simply the residual upset left behind by their spat from earlier in the morning. 

"Do you have a key to the archives?" Cyrus questioned of him. "A tome has gone missing, and I'm doing what I can to determine the source of its disappearance."

For a moment, Yvon's shoulders knotted with tension, but he corrected his posture in the blink of an eye. "You know full well that I have a key to the special archives and that I would never be so foolish as to let it fall into the wrong hands," Yvon snapped. Cyrus had to force his shoulders to remain pressed back to keep from flinching. "In any event, I have had no reason to peruse those tomes in quite some time. The key has been in this drawer gathering dust for ages."

Yvon opened a drawer found in the upper right portion of his desk, and Cyrus glanced at it to the best of his ability while still keeping his distance. Even from far away, he could see the dust that covered the inside of the shelf. "Thank you for your assistance," Cyrus told Yvon as he retreated from the room. Yvon's eyes remained fixed in a glare as Cyrus left the area behind, shutting the door behind him. Cyrus blamed the anger on their previous argument, understanding fully well how petty Yvon had the power to be. 

By the time that Cyrus had arrived back in the square of Atlasdam, he felt as if the pieces had finally come together. The guard stood outside the library, but he had little knowledge of the books that he watched over or the true value they held. On top of that, his key had gone missing. Yvon hadn't been to the archives in quite some time, and dust had gathered on his key to make it clear that he had kept his distance from the library. Mercedes had been sure to tell him that only Yvon and the guard had keys to the special archives, and she would know best as the library. Finally, there was Russell with all of his strange behavior and the way that he had mentioned having gambling debts when Cyrus scrutinized him enough. 

"That should be all the information I need to solve this case," Cyrus said to himself after he had gone over it once again internally. He was sure that the path of logic was going to lead him in the right direction. All he had to do was follow the road that the facts had presented him with. 

There were two keys to the archives. One of them was owned by the guard of the library, and the other belonged to Yvon. However, Yvon's key had fallen under a layer of dust, proof that it hadn't been used in quite some time. The guard's key must have been the one that was used, and the fact that it was missing from his hip made it even clearer. The guard's sleepy behavior had ultimately been his downfall, allowing the key to easily be stolen off his person. 

It was doubtful that the guard was the one behind the theft. He didn't know enough about the value of the books that he defended, and he didn't seem to understand why anyone would want to steal them in the first place. The culprit would have needed to know the true value of the tome, and Cyrus could think of someone who was both aware of how important the books of the archives were and suspicious in every way imaginable. 

Russell had gathered together quite the debt due to his gambling habits, and he had grown shifty and anxious when he noticed that Cyrus was trying to figure out who was behind the disappearance of the tome. If that wasn't evidence that he was guilty of this incident, then Cyrus didn't know what was. This was the only explanation that made sense, and he was confident that his logic hadn't betrayed him. 

"Now all that remains is to find our man and make him confess to the crime," Cyrus muttered to himself. He closed his eyes as he tried to think over where Russell would be. Atlasdam's busy square continued to move around him. 

Cyrus was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost didn't notice it when Russell himself came walking by. Russell was clearly worked up by his own fear, and he didn't seem to see Cyrus at all. In fact, Russell moved through the crowd effortlessly, not caring about who gave him sideways glances along the way. Cyrus watched Russell from afar, figuring that it would be best to confront him under circumstances where evidence would be present.

Russell walked down the stairs out of the square and towards a small patch of grass. The grass led to a pathway that gave way to an entrance to the underground. Russell gave a brief glance at his surroundings before moving inside, not realizing that Cyrus had seen everything. The dark-haired scholar watched for a few moments later, but when he noticed that Russell wouldn't be returning, Cyrus took a step back. 

It would be best to speak with Russell when there was evidence present, and given that Russell was traveling beneath Atlasdam, Cyrus assumed that his colleague had been using the underground as a base for his shifty operations. Of course, leaving behind the city would cause a few issues for Cyrus; if he went on his own, he was bound to be attacked should Russell realize what was happening. Even if Russell didn't put up the biggest fight, he was inevitably going to grow defensive at Cyrus' accusations. It was an inevitability that Cyrus knew he would never be able to ignore. 

There was a weapons shop found within Atlasdam's lower segment. If Cyrus went there, he would be able to find a staff that could augment his magical strength. Cyrus was far from being a physical fighter by any means, but he could cast powerful spells of fire and ice. If he was forced to, he would be able to call upon other elements as well thanks to his extensive research into the arcane arts. He would need to give himself every advantage that he could, and Cyrus knew that there was no better place to start than finding a new weapon. 

"Right, then," Cyrus murmured to himself. He glanced towards the tunnel entrance one last time before making his way into the lower segment of Atlasdam, wondering what would come of his encounter with Russell. 

~~~~~

Ophilia arrived in Atlasdam close to the middle of the day, and she found herself sweating from the sun beating down overhead. She rubbed at her brow with one hand. Her gloves had been cast aside due to the heat. The Flatlands were much colder than the Frostlands that Ophilia was used to, and she couldn't believe how geographically close they were due to the radically different temperatures. 

Atlasdam was a temporary reprieve from her journey, and Ophilia navigated through the town towards the shop. She was going to need a few extra healing grapes if she wanted to get through the day in one piece. There had been quite a few monster attacks on the way to Atlasdam, and Ophilia was embarrassed to admit that she had taken more than a dozen hits in the process. The Ember continued to burn within the Lanthorn, but its light could only do so much to heal Ophilia's woes. She needed a break, plain and simple. 

Ophilia started to walk through the bustling city soon afterwards, hating how out of place she felt. Atlasdam's residents came from many corners of the world, but not many seemed to come there from Flamesgrace. Ophilia didn't think that anybody was staring at her, and she took great solace in the fact that she was less of an outcast here than she had been in Flamesgrace. Her stomach ached with the cruel stab of irony. 

Ophilia was so distracted with trying to reach the destination in mind of the local shop that she didn't notice the man walking towards her until it was too late. It seemed that neither one of them had been paying attention, and Ophilia was sent crashing to the ground. The Lanthorn slid away from her grasp, landing near the feet of the man. "I-I'm so sorry!" Ophilia stammered as she got ready to rise to her feet. One hand reached out for the Lanthorn. 

When Ophilia glanced up, she was met with the face of none other than Cyrus. Despite their sudden collision, he didn't seem to be upset. "You don't need to apologize," he assured her with a smile on his face. "I should have been paying more attention." Cyrus got to his feet and helped Ophilia to rise by reaching one hand out in her direction. She hesitated before accepting his offer. 

Cyrus leaned down before picking up the Lanthorn, and his eyes immediately went wide. He seemed to be enthralled by it. "Incredible..." he murmured. When he noticed that Ophilia's eyes were anxious, he let out a small chuckle before returning the Lanthorn to her. "My apologies. I suppose that my curiosity got the best of me... I can sense incredible magical strength from that lantern of yours."

Ophilia was stuck in place for a moment. Lantern was certainly one way of putting it. "Oh... Um... Yeah," she eventually said, immediately kicking herself internally for sounding so awkward. She looked down and realized that her fingers were touching Cyrus' still. In her shock, she had forgotten to pull her hand away from his. 

The first thing that Ophilia noticed about him was that his magical strength was incredible. In fact, the Lanthorn seemed to agree, and it gleamed a bit brighter. She looked up to him once again, and the words fell from her lips before she could stop them. "Are you a mage?" she asked. 

Cyrus nodded. "You could certainly say that. I'm a scholar at the Atlasdam Royal Academy, though I do spend much of my time researching the magical arts on the side... You possess incredible arcane strength. If you don't mind my asking, what is your name?" he questioned. 

"Ophilia," the cleric replied. "I practice light magic. I'm a cleric at the Flamesgrace Cathedral." Ophilia winced inwardly at her sudden oversharing, but the scholar didn't seem to mind at all. 

"Cyrus Albright," he introduced himself with a bow of his head. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ophilia. Tell me, what brings you from Flamesgrace to Atlasdam? We don't see many visitors from the Frostlands."

Ophilia hesitated, unsure of if she should respond honestly. She liked to think of herself as a decent mage, though she somehow doubted that she would be able to defend herself against the immense arcane might of Cyrus if he betrayed her. "I... I'm on a pilgrimage," she finally said. It was honest, albeit an exemption of information, and Ophilia forced herself to not dwell on it further. 

"I see..." Cyrus murmured. He eyed the Lanthorn once again, and recognition dawned in his eyes before he shoved it down. If he knew the truth behind Ophilia's journey, he chose to not say anything on the matter. "If there is anything I could do to assist you, it would be my pleasure."

"I... I'm looking for the item shop here," Ophilia told him. "I'm running low on supplies, but I need to make it to Rippletide before sunset."

"What a coincidence! I was just headed there myself," Cyrus said with an honest smile as bright as the sun. "Allow me to accompany you. I need to purchase a staff and a few plums and grapes. I may have a difficult battle ahead of me, and I need to be prepared."

Ophilia nodded as she followed Cyrus to the shop. He was all too happy to buy enough grapes and plums for them both before making his way to the weapons building. He purchased a staff for himself before handing Ophilia her supplies. All she could do was stare at him in confusion and shock. He was so endlessly kind that it almost didn't seem real to her. She would have expected someone to use her pilgrimage against her if they learned the truth of her identity, but Cyrus didn't seem to mind. Granted, that was her operating under the assumption that he knew at all, and she had no evidence to back up such a claim. Her thoughts on such a matter remained though. 

Cyrus was clearly a powerful sage. She could feel his strength whenever they made contact with one another, and Ophilia knew that she could use help like that. Cyrus didn't seem to be malicious, and if she could learn other types of magic from her, it would greatly aid her travels. The further she got from Flamesgrace, the harder her battles got. If she wanted to survive, she would need to have a wide range of attacks, and Cyrus' power certainly made it seem as if he would be able to offer her what she needed. 

"Um... If you don't mind my asking, just what is it that you're going to be doing?" Ophilia questioned as she counted the grapes that Cyrus had given her. She reached into her bag to pull out the leaves needed to pay him back. 

Cyrus placed a hand on her knuckles to stop her from retrieving her money, and Ophilia hesitantly allowed her hand to fall back to her side. "A colleague of mine has been stealing tomes from the archives found here in Atlasdam. I'm on my way to confront him, but I fear that he may grow agitated when confronted. I want as much power on my side as possible," he explained. 

Ophilia took in a deep breath before speaking, steeling herself internally. "I... I would like to come with you," she told him. Her grip on the Lanthorn grew tighter, and its glow seemed to increase at her words, almost as if it could understand her emotions. 

Cyrus quirked an eyebrow up. "What about your journey? The last thing I would want to do is delay you from reaching Rippletide," he said with a frown. 

"If I come with you to help you find out what your colleague has been doing, I... I would like you to teach me another type of magic," Ophilia explained. "My light magic isn't as effective in the Flatlands, and I could use the extra coverage of elemental power."

"Ah, I understand," Cyrus murmured. He looked down to the staff in his hand before glancing towards the Lanthorn, seemingly considering his options. Ophilia's heart skipped a beat in the silence before he met her eyes with a smile. "I would be happy to aid you. This should complete my preparations, meaning we are ready to set out for the underground tunnels beneath Atlasdam. I will do what I can to help you learn a new type of magic. Ice and fire are my specialties."

"Ice magic would be great," Ophilia replied with a smile. Saintsbridge was in the Riverlands, and Ophilia knew that beasts there were weak to ice magic thanks to her youth being spent there. It would cover multiple bases, and that was precisely what Ophilia was looking to do by traveling with Cyrus in the first place. 

"Then it's settled!" Cyrus proclaimed confidently. "I pray that our mission won't take too long. I would be happy to see you off to Rippletide, though I'm afraid that I will be unable to join you. My work as a scholar here is keeping me bound to Atlasdam for the time being, but I'll do what I can until that time arrives."

"Perfect," Ophilia grinned. She was already starting to feel more at ease with Cyrus. He was an open and honest person as far as she could tell. Nothing about him seemed to imply that he had ulterior motives for assisting her, and she was starting to believe that perhaps she had imagined his observant eyes recognizing the truth of who she was. Ophilia didn't think it would be necessary to tell him that she was traveling to Saintsbridge because of the Kindling, and she hoped that it wouldn't be vital to share such a fact. She wanted to remain as low key as possible to keep from facing opposition. She seemed to get into enough trouble on her own thanks to monster battles, so finding other foes was the last thing she wanted or needed. 

Cyrus gestured for Ophilia to follow him deeper into Atlasdam, and she trailed after him. As the silence fell between them, Ophilia couldn't help but feel that something about him was familiar. It was difficult for her to place, and she was certain that she would have remembered if she had met such a distinct character before, but she was positive that they were connected somehow. The details eluded her, but Ophilia cast such thoughts aside at the soonest opportunity. After all, she had a mission to focus on. 

Cyrus and Ophilia stopped briefly at the entrance to the tunnel leading beneath Atlasdam. The two shared a brief glance, a sign of their solidified resolve, before stepping into the cavern. The light of the city streets was forgotten in favor of darkness, and there was little aside from the Ember to light their path as they chased Russell's footsteps for answers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually not posting this at four in the morning. What is this witchcraft?
> 
> At long last, we've got Cyrus and Ophilia together! Well, I say 'at long last', but it's only been a chapter and a half. One of the hardest parts of this chapter was working out how I wanted them to decide to travel together. Ophilia doesn't have much of a motive to stop elsewhere at this point, but since Cyrus would be able to teach her other types of magic to defend herself with, that is a reason for her to stay in Atlasdam longer than expected. The matter of monsters being less impacted by her light magic in the Flatlands is a gameplay reference; in the chapter one areas, most of the monsters are weak to the attacks of the character found in the nearby city as well as those in adjacent towns. Light magic used by Ophilia is most commonly found as enemy weaknesses in S'warkii, Flamesgrace, and Atlasdam areas, so the more that she travels, the less power she has at her disposal to stop the monsters. 
> 
> The other thing I wish to highlight in this chapter is Cyrus' encounter with Yvon in the first half of the chapter. Let's just say that Yvon's odd behavior is going to be important later, and it should be pretty clear why if you know what happens in Cyrus' chapter one. I'll bring it up again later down the line, but for now, it's just something to keep tucked in the back of your mind. 
> 
> That's about all there is to say about this chapter for now, so I'm going to leave it there. Next time, we'll get into the study beneath Atlasdam and build up to the Russell fight. Until then, I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is always appreciated. Have a nice day, everyone!
> 
> -Digital

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoying my work? If you wish to receive updates on when I post new content, feel free to check out my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/__digitaldreams)  
> or [Discord server.](https://discord.gg/9MBReeF)  
> I occasionally post previews of upcoming stories on both, and there are discussion chats for my series on Discord. Any sharing of my content or other interaction (kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc.) is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading, and I hope you're liking it so far!


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